The Art of Cooking the Muggle Way
by Sophie French
Summary: Cooking. The Muggle Way. Without any Magic. Definitely Draco's idea of hell. Unless, of course, it leads to much more interesting activities with one Harry Potter. But wait. Draco's into girls, right?


**Word Count:** ~24k

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters, settings, etc. It all belongs to JK Rowling and the publishers.

**Author's note:** This was written for the 2014 hd_Tropes fest on Live Journal, for the trope Denial. A huge thank you as usual to my lovely beta readers/cheerleaders, CleopatraIsMyName, Iwao and Firethesound.

* * *

**The Art of Cooking the Muggle Way**

* * *

This must be some kind of joke, Draco thought as he turned the parchment detailing his eighth year schedule in his hand over and over, in search of any sign that would show it was, indeed, some kind of a prank McGonagall, the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts, had played on them. Some sort of test.

"What the fuck?" Blaise echoed next to him on the sofa. Draco ripped Blaise's own schedule from him and sure enough, there it was.

"What do they take us for?" Pansy whined above him, her fingers on his scalp a mere comfort.

It was bad enough they'd had to come back here to resume their studies, having to face constant scorn and occasional hexing from behind from other students, and now this?

"We're not bloody house-elves," Draco muttered to no one in particular.

"And yet, we'll have to act like we are," Blaise sneered.

"As if it wasn't punishment enough that we'd have to share a common room with the others already," Draco spat, looking to where the students from the other houses were chatting together. They formed small groups, some sprawled on the sofas, others sitting on the floor, chatting happily and interacting with each other, regardless of what houses they previously belonged to. The Slytherins, on the other hand, stuck together like they always had.

Exactly like it should be.

But still. Not only did they have to study a whole year again, but they had to live almost 24/7 with people Draco despised. And for what? Oh yes, in the interest of _interhouse cooperation, _McGonagall had said.

"Interhouse cooperation my arse."

Pansy looked at him with a compassionate look on her face. "Poor, poor Draco," she sighed, and Draco relaxed a little. At least he still had his friends with him.

"And what's with the ridiculous pompous name anyway?"

"What is it again? Oh yes, 'The Art of Cooking the Muggle Way,'" Draco moodily replied.

Cooking.

The Muggle Way.

Without any Magic.

And there was no way out of this one. It was mandatory to validate their NEWTs, along with the three other components of the new Muggle Studies course: British Muggle History, Basic Use of Muggle Devices, and Communicating with Muggles. It was all part of a brilliant plan to _'make sure our students become open-minded witches and wizards,'_ as McGonagall had stated in a very serious tone at the start-of-term banquet.

Bullshit. Total bullshit. Draco was a wizard, and even if the war had somewhat dampened his previous views on the subject of blood purity, he was never going to become a Muggle-lover like Potter and his clique.

Potter, Draco sighed. Another year having to bear the sight of the fucking saviour. He closed his eyes, hoping against hope that tomorrow couldn't possibly be any fucking worse.

* * *

It wasn't meant to be.

Of course, Draco arrived late for the first Cooking the Muggle Way Class of Doom - courtesy of the arsehole who had hexed him from behind once again - and of course, Murphy being an utter bastard, the only seat left was the one next to Potter. He sent a dark look in the direction of Blaise and Pansy. Since when did they ever sit together?

Bloody brilliant.

The classroom wasn't set up like an ordinary one. There were no desks, just large, long tables slightly higher than regular ones, with a couple of shelves underneath them containing an amazing amount of utensils Draco had never seen before and couldn't care less about.

Each workstation was loaded with very suspicious looking devices.

He growled and went to sit on the stool next to Potter.

Stools.

What kind of people would use stools when you could use chairs anyway?

"Not a word," he warned.

"If you think this is making me happy, Malfoy," Potter snapped.

"Just- shut up."

Potter's retort was cut short by the appearance of their new Muggle Studies teacher. Draco hastily pushed away unwanted images of Hogwarts' previous Muggle Studies teacher from his mind.

The professor standing before them wasn't one to be messed with, judging by the stern look on her face as she roamed the eerily silent classroom. She was a short, stocky woman with almost no neck. She turned her back on them and started writing on the chalkboard.

COOKING. She underlined the word twice, then turned around to face them, put the chalk down on her desk, and clasped her hands together in a small puff of dust.

"I'm Professor Noracam and I'll be your Muggle Studies professor for the coming year." She folded her arms over her massive chest, eyes slightly narrowed as if daring anyone to defy her. "One of the three components of Muggle Studies this year will be the Art of Cooking the Muggle Way. Now: Cooking is an Art." She paused dramatically, and Draco rolled his eyes.

He couldn't care less about it being an art. He wasn't a fucking artist. He was a wizard, and as such, he still didn't understand why he had to indulge in inane activities he would never need to perform at any point in his life. He very well intended on having a whole team of house-elves who, thank God, would do all menial tasks for him.

What a fucking waste of time.

"And thus, it has to be taken very seriously. I will not tolerate disrespectful behaviour in the kitchen. You'll have to work by the rules, since cooking demands focus and precision. I will also add that no magic is ever to be used in any way. That is why I am asking you to take your wands out and give them to me. The purpose of this course is to really teach you to manage without any magic at all."

No wand? She must be kidding! But apparently she wasn't. Pansy and Blaise turned to him, probably expecting some objection from him, but what alternative did he really have? With his parents still being on house arrest, under close surveillance of the Ministry, he had no other choice but to play by the rules. So he clenched his teeth and waited until the very last minute to get up and hand over the wand Potter had given him back over the summer.

He felt naked without it, and hated the feeling.

"Now one last thing before we start," Draco lifted his head slightly. "The person sitting next to you will be your partner for the rest of the year. No discussion possible."

WHAT?

"Fuck me," Potter muttered next to him.

"I'll pass," Draco moodily replied and Potter glared at him.

Noracam went on. "Now, practice is the secret. In order for you to improve, you will be given regular assignments over the course of this semester that you will need to complete with your partner. Since there's only one cooking room in the whole castle, each pair will take turns using it in the evenings in order to practice. I'll give you the schedule next week."

This was definitely going to be a long year.

He was going to kill his friends.

* * *

"On every work station," Noracam went on, "you will find your apron. Please put it on before we start."

Draco blankly stared at the white piece of fabric in front of him as Potter obediently put his apron on, looking absolutely ridiculous. Well, he always looked ridiculous so that wasn't too much of a change anyway.

"No way." Draco shook his head. "I'm not wearing this."

"Oh, stop being so difficult," Potter snapped.

"I'm not difficult! I'll look ridiculous and it will ruin the line of my robes. Of course, you wouldn't know anything about style, Potter, since you haven't got any."

"Great one, Malfoy. Did you take summer classes in the Art of Repartee?" Potter sneered.

"This looks like a dress. I'm not wearing a dress."

"Says the guy who wears robes all year long."

Draco wanted to strangle him.

"Oh come on, stop being such a drama queen. It's not as if she's asking us to wear it without anything else underneath."

A fleeting image of Potter wearing nothing but the ugly apron passed through Draco's head.

Noracam spoke again. "Since you all come from very different backgrounds and education, you all have different levels of knowledge. Some of you are already highly skilled while others have absolutely no idea what cooking is all about." She paused and stared pointedly at Draco who gazed down at his shoes. "That is why our first lessons aim at teaching you the basics of cooking. We will start by learning very simple, albeit necessary, skills."

She took a small knife and held it up. "_This_ is a paring knife. You will use it mostly to peel and chop vegetables. There is one knife for each and every one of you. I have to warn you though," she paused dramatically. "These knives have been charmed so that absolutely no harm can be done with them, but attempting to do so will send you directly to the Headmistress' Office."

Potter turned to him and raised an eyebrow in defiance. Draco narrowed his eyes for good measure. Bloody git.

Professor Noracam raised her wand. "Now your first lesson will be to learn how to slice an onion, the proper way."

An onion. Draco hated onions.

"_Appareo_," she said, and sure enough the bloody round things appeared out of thin air and landed right in front of each of them. "Now you'll follow each and every step very carefully. First, cut the onion in half through the root, just like that."

Here we go, thought Draco. What did she think they were, five year olds? After more than six years practising Potions, he could cut absolutely anything, thank you very much. Cutting an onion shouldn't be more difficult than slicing an eye of Newt. He didn't need bloody lessons for this!

He reached for the onion and held it in place on the wooden board. He tried to cut through the goddamn thing but for some reason, his knife slid along the side of the onion, missing Draco's fingertips by a short inch as the sodding thing now rolled dangerously near the edge of the table. Draco caught it at the last moment, but it had been a close call. He heard Potter snigger but ignored him. He took a deep breath, trying to focus. The second shot was the right one. Draco managed to cut the goddamn thing in two and let out a breath of relief.

"Good, now slice away both ends of each half and pull away the onion's skin," Noracam was strolling in between the workstations, making sure they were doing things the right way and stopping from time to time to correct their gestures.

That wasn't too hard, and Draco managed it without too much difficulty. Maybe he would be okay in the end.

"Now on to the slicing part of it. Start on one side of the onion and simply make slices as thick as you want. Very good, Mr Potter, very good!"

Draco rolled his eyes and glanced at Potter who had already finished, the bloody bastard. Of course, he would know all about it; he had been raised by Muggles! It wasn't fair! Once again, the stupid git was getting all the praise and glory. It shouldn't matter, since this was something Draco really didn't want to learn, but it was still annoying.

Draco started attacking the onion, looking forward to being done with it. It was easy in the end, nothing too complicated, really.

Or so he thought.

He was half-way through the slicing of his onion when all of a sudden, he was assailed with a burning pain in his eyes. He tried to dismiss it at once, blinking hard, but it wouldn't go away and panic started rising inside him like Fiendfyre in the Room of Hidden Things.

What the hell was that?

It hurt like crazy, and it was soon preventing Draco from seeing, blurring his vision badly. He was starting to sweat and realised embarrassing tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. He tried once more to contain the pain, to act as if it wasn't there, but it was too much and he let go of the onion and the knife at once, losing the last thread of dignity he had managed to maintain until then.

Fuck, if Draco hated onions, the feeling was apparently mutual.

The stinging increased and his eyes were now shut tight, the unbearable pain intensifying by the minute. He started rubbing his fingers on his eyelids but realised how big a mistake that was when after a relatively short moment of truce, the pain came brutally back and redoubled. Bloody hell!

He didn't know what to do, so he tried to make his way out of the room - at this point, he couldn't open his eyes anymore, the pain was way too intense. He had his right arm outstretched in front of him to avoid bumping into something, when two things happened at once: someone grabbed his shoulder hard to prevent him to move and a piece of cloth - was it a tea towel? - was pressed on to his eyes rather firmly.

Completely startled, Draco tried to go against it at first but soon realised that whoever was doing that was in fact trying to _help_. Draco surrendered and stopped moving while the other person was wiping his eyes before removing the cloth from them.

Soon, the stinging diminished and Draco opened his eyes carefully. He started back when he realised that it was Potter, of all people, who had come to his rescue.

He quickly regained his composure and ripped the piece of cloth - it was indeed, a tea towel - from Potter's hand and started drying his dampened cheeks with it.

"I don't need your help, Potty, I can take care of myself," he spat for good measure, although his words lacked their usual venom.

Potter kept looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze made Draco uncomfortable. "You're very welcome," Potter retorted after a while and went back to his seat.

The rest of the class went by without further incidents, although neither Potter nor Draco uttered another word.

* * *

When the class was finally over, Draco went straight to the next, not bothering to wait for his so-called friends. He was intent on showing them his displeasure, and did so by sulking, going as far as not to sit with them over dinner.

Blaise and Pansy tried to talk to him, although they knew him well enough to know it wasn't of any use. They also knew him well enough to know that it wouldn't last. After dinner, he met them in the Common Room.

Pansy was all over him in a second. "Draco, I am so sorry for this morning, but you see-"

"Cut the crap, Pansy."

"So, had fun with the Saviour?" Blaise dared teasing him.

Draco sent him a dark look. "What do you think? And all of it thanks to you two," he scowled. "And I'm stuck with the bloody Scarhead for the whole year, now."

"Yes, well, at least it's not an important subject. Imagine being paired with him in Potions!"

"Fucking cooking classes from hell," Draco muttered.

"Come over here, Draco," Pansy said, and Draco came to lie on her lap. She stroked his hair, a habit she had started a long time ago, when they were still children.

It had been odd to go back to Hogwarts without Crabbe and Goyle. Draco was still struggling with Crabbe's death. It was still very vivid in his mind, and if during the day he managed to push the thoughts of his friend away, it was harder at night when his subconscious took over and made him relive the whole scene over and over again.

As for Goyle, who had never really been academically gifted, he had refused to go back, preferring to start working right away and try to put the whole ordeal behind him.

Sometimes Draco wondered if Goyle wasn't right in the end. He sighed; it's not as if he had had any choice in coming back anyway.

That night, Draco had a weird dream about Potter running after him with an onion in his hand. He was wearing an apron, with absolutely nothing else underneath.

* * *

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. On Friday morning, he received his weekly package from his mother. Draco had a sweet tooth, to say the least. Since his very first year at Hogwarts, his mother regularly sent him packages with a rather impressive amount of sweets: chocolate frogs - his favourites - but also Chocoballs and Fizzing Whizzbees... Draco had a real weakness for chocolate. He could eat chocolate all day long.

He reluctantly went to sit on the stool next to Potter who blatantly ignored him. Good. Draco didn't have any inkling to speak to the stupid spectacled git anyway.

"Welcome back, class. Today you will put what you've learned last week into practice. You will learn how to chop vegetables and use them to make a salad. You will also learn how to make a _vinaigrette_."

Draco closed his eyes. _This must be a nightmare and I will wake up soon_.

"But first, here are your schedules for your assignments. Like I said, each pair will have access to this room in the evening to practise their skills and do their homework. Said homework will not always be written assignments. Most of the time, it will be practical applications of what you learned in class. You will be judged on the quality of your dish, but also on your ability to work with your partner. Here is your first assignment, as well as the schedule for the occupation of the room." She flicked her wand and a pile of parchments that had been sitting on her desk rapidly flew to each workstation.

Draco and Potter went for it at the same time and their fingers brushed. Draco removed his hand swiftly while Potter started to read. Draco had to lean over his shoulder to be able to see - not wanting to remain on the side. Being so close to Potter, his nostrils caught his scent, and it immediately took Draco back to the last time he'd smelled it in the Room of Hidden Things. He swiftly pulled back.

"Thursday nights, great," he muttered.

"What, you had other plans, Malfoy?"

"What do you think? I, unlike you, have a fulfilling social life."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Really? There are still people willing to spend their free time with you after all your family did?"

Draco blanched at his words and felt anger creeping up inside him at an alarming rate. It was already hard having random people making him pay for what happened during the war, but coming from Potter? He lunged at Potter and grabbed him by his collar.

"How dare you," Draco said menacingly. "If you think saving my life gives you the right to- OUCH!"

Draco was propelled a couple of feet back and landed on his arse in front of all the other students, who didn't even bother trying to hide their sniggers.

"Mr Malfoy," Professor Noracam said dryly, wand still in hand and pointed directly at him, "you would be very well advised not to stir up trouble in my class. Another outburst like this one and it will be the Headmistress' office immediately. Have I made myself clear?"

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"Good. Now go back to your workstation and put on your apron."

"Here," Pansy murmured, offering her hand.

"I don't need your help," Draco growled, standing up and straightening his robes. He went back to his table and grabbed the white apron, putting it on without another word. Draco was angry, but mostly at himself for letting Potter get to him. After all that had happened, nothing had changed.

They spent the next hour cutting - chopping - all sort of vegetables and making vinaigrette.

All in all, they managed to go through the whole hour without speaking to one another, which was rather soothing.

* * *

On Thursday night, he made his way to the cooking classroom for his first one-on-one session with Potter. They were supposed to put into practice the skills they had been taught over the last couple of lessons and come up with a mixed salad each pair would present tomorrow.

Draco hadn't talked to Potter since the incident in the classroom last week. He didn't know how on earth they would be able to work together without talking, but he couldn't care less about that.

He entered the room and Potter was already there, crouching on the floor to get the different utensils and ingredients they would need for their salad.

When he heard Draco close the door, he stood up at once.

"Oh, you're here, good," Potter said in a surprisingly friendly tone, and Draco was immediately suspicious.

"Like I have any other choice. I do hope you realise I'd rather plunge my head in a bucket full of flobberworms than willingly spend time with you alone."

"Well, you have the fantasies you want." Potter shrugged and dropped the stainless-steel salad bowl he was holding onto the table. "Look, Malfoy, I shouldn't have said what I did the other day. I- Like you said, we don't have much of a choice here, but we have to at least manage to be civil to each other if we want to pass this."

Draco hadn't seen that coming. Was Potter really apologising to him? He fleetingly wondered if this surprising apology had been Granger's idea.

"You don't like me, fine, I get it, I can't say I'm particularly fond of you either," Potter went on. "But we both need to pass our NEWTs and I'd be really pissed off if I couldn't get into Auror training because I failed at fucking cooking lessons."

Oh. That made more sense.

"Just to make things clear: it's not that I don't like you, Potty, it's that I _hate_ you. I just can't stand the sight of you. You may fool the masses with your innocent air, but you're not fooling me. So we're doing this because we don't have any other choice. But outside this class? Don't ever come near me."

"I wouldn't come near you if you were the last person left on this planet and the sun was shining out of your arse, Malfoy."

"I'm glad we agree. So what are we supposed to do?"

"Right, this is a very basic assignment. I mean, there's nothing easier than putting together a salad; it can hardly even be called cooking at all."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Show off," he sneered.

"It's true! It's dead easy, you just have to pick the right veggies and put them together, throw in a nice little vinaigrette, and then it's done. I've done that dozens of times."

Potter looked like he had slipped a bit of info he would rather have kept to himself.

"You have?"

"Well, yeah, although it was a long time ago."

"Right, so what are we doing now?"

"You can start by rinsing the veggies thoroughly and chopping them, while I work on the vinaigrette."

Draco frowned. "What do you take me for? I am not your bloody house-elf, Potter. I don't see why I couldn't do the fun stuff while you rinse and chop."

Potter narrowed his eyes dangerously and sighed deeply. "Fine, then we'll swap. You do the vinaigrette and I'll do the veggies."

Draco wanted to smirk at him for being so easy but the look on Potter's face made him keep his mouth shut.

They worked in silence for the rest of the time. It was weird working like that alongside Potter. Draco realised he had never been alone in a room with him for such a long time before.

When they were done, they went their separate ways, Draco going back to the West Tower and Potter going Merlin knows where.

* * *

Draco was late again the following Thursday.

He was just finding it hard to leave the comfort of the Common Room and the reassuring presence of his friends to cross half the castle to meet with Potter.

He wasn't going to make an effort.

When he arrived, Potter was already working on this week's assignment: stuffed vegetables. Noracam had explained to them the week before that it was an 'easy but tasty recipe.'

Draco stared at the ingredients displayed on the counter, wrinkling his nose.

"What?" Potter asked after a while.

"It looks absolutely revolting."

"You do realise we have to cook it before eating it?"

"Yeah, I'd got that, thank you. I wonder what I would do without you, Potty," Draco muttered.

"And it's not revolting, it's the stuff they put in sausages. Don't you like sausages? I love sausages!"

"You would be very well advised to keep your private life private, Potter," Draco snorted.

Potter looked at him, something odd passing over his eyes.

"So, how do we do this?" Draco went on.

Potter took the recipe and started reading.

"Well, I suggest one of us removes the core of the peppers while the other works on the stuffing."

"Right, I'll leave you the disgusting stuff and I'll take care of the veggies."

Potter chuckled. "Okay, let's do that then."

Draco grabbed the veggies and rinsed them. Potter rolled his sleeves up to his elbows like he always did before cooking and put on his apron. Curiously, the ugly thing underlined Potter's figure and it looked rather good on him.

Potter gathered all the ingredients he was going to use to make his disgusting mixture. There was olive oil, garlic, onions - Draco was happy he could stay away from the damn thing - an egg, salt, pepper, herbs and of course, the minced meat.

It took a while for Potter to chop the onion and garlic, so he was already half-way done by the time Potter actually started on the stuffing. Potter threw the minced meat into the bowl, added the onion and the garlic, grabbed the whole thing wholeheartedly with both hands and started kneading it - Merlin forbid! - with his bare hands.

He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Potter, please tell me you washed your hands first."

"Of course I have! What do you take me for?"

"I take you for a slob, and this is utterly gross. _You_ are utterly gross. There's a very useful utensil invented a long time ago that comes in pretty handy when you don't want to look like a caveman, you know? It's called a spoon, Potter."

"Yeah, but it's much more efficient like this. Besides, I like using my hands." Draco wrinkled his nose again and was even more disgusted when Potter took hold of the egg and broke it into the minced meat.

"It's not that bad, I promise it's a lot nicer than it looks." He added the herbs and the salt and pepper. "It's quite sensual even. You should try it, you know."

_Sensual?_ Potter and he definitely didn't have the same definition of sensual.

"What? Are you insane? There's no way I'm putting my fingers into that filthy thing!"

Potter looked at him mischievously. "Oh come on, Malfoy, I'm sure you've already put your fingers into plenty of other filthy things."

He raised an eyebrow. He most certainly had not. "Say that again?"

Potter looked him deep in his eyes, a very serious look on his face. "Yes, I mean, in Potions we always have to deal with disgusting eyes of whatever, and I never heard you complain about that."

_Oh._

"Well, have you met Snape? Besides, Potions is an art, something pure, beautiful and subtle, the very antithesis of cooking. But of course, you wouldn't understand. You have the subtlety of a troll, Potter."

"Right, I still think you should try it. Come on, give me your hands!"

"I am most certainly not-" There was no way Potter was going to take his hands. That would be just… weird and disgusting. And Draco absolutely didn't want to put his hands in the greasy thing either, not for one second.

"Oh come on, Malfoy, you're no fun!" Potter was looking rather expectant, and in a moment of weakness, Draco caved in.

Later on, Draco would blame it on insanity.

"Fine," he said and closed his eyes. Without another thought, he plunged his hands into the mixture. He flicked them open instantly, rather surprised by the consistency of the whole thing. It was cold and slimy but Potter had been right, it wasn't completely unpleasant.

"Now fondle it like you would do with breasts," Potter said very matter-of-factly. Draco's eyes widened and he gaped at Potter in a most undignified way. "Or butts, if they're more your thing." Potter shrugged.

It took Draco a couple of seconds to understand what Potter was insinuating. Bloody hell! What was wrong with Potter tonight? Had he been cursed or given a Befuddlement Draught?

"What?" Potter said and Draco realised he had stopped _fondling_ the whole thing altogether to stare at Potter.

"Er- nothing, I just-"

But Potter interpreted his staring in the most twisted way. "Hey, that's fine if you like blokes, I'm not one to judge here," he said casually, as if talking about the weather.

Draco almost choked on his own tongue. "WHAT?"

Potter shrugged. "Yeah, I mean, it's fine by me, Malfoy, I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not- I am most certainly not like _that_, Potter!" Draco replied indignantly. Because he wasn't. Not for one second.

Potter paused, his disgusting hands still hanging up in the air as he scanned Draco from head to toe and back up before stopping at Draco's face, his eyebrows up.

"Really?"

"NO!"

"You sure about that?"

"Yes I'm sure, Potter! A hundred percent sure!"

"Oh! Sorry, I just- I just assumed you were."

Draco felt all the blood leaving his face at once. "And why would you think that?" he managed to say. He needed to know.

"I don't know," Potter shrugged again. "Your poncy robes maybe?"

His robes? What was wrong with his robes? Draco was wearing only the best, designed by one of the most renowned French fashion designer, and yes, they maybe were slightly close-fitting, but Draco thought it did rather good things to his slender figure and- Fuck! What the hell was he doing?

"Well I'm not," he replied dryly, before removing his hands from the mixture and hastily washing them.

He scraped harshly at his fingers, wishing to remove the oily sensation from them. But no matter how much Draco ran his fingers under the water, it didn't remove the feeling of unease at Potter's assumptions about him.

Potter had thought he was homosexual.

And had said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Right, on to the stuffing part now," Potter said, and Draco was relieved with the change of subject.

When Potter was done with the mixture, he grabbed a bell pepper and started stuffing it. He kept moving his fingers in and out of the red, narrow pepper, in an effort to get as much stuffing into the thing as he could. Draco tried to focus his attention back to his own pepper.

He then helped Potter stuff the remaining vegetables. He mimicked Potter as much as he could, seizing the stuffing in his fingers and then delicately filling the pepper with it, pressing two fingers inside it, like Potter had done, before adding more stuffing and repeating the motion.

"You're pretty good at that," Potter said tilting his chin, an appreciative look on his face, as Draco was once again moving his fingers in and out of the thing to cram all the stuffing in.

Draco hastily removed his fingers from the pepper.

It took a long time for Draco to fall asleep that night. Potter's words kept coming back to him, and every time, he tried to push them away with sheer force, to no avail.

"I'm not gay. Absolutely, definitely not gay," he murmured to himself in the darkness of his room.

* * *

The lessons went on week after week, during which they learned to roast, sauté, fry and boil a whole variety of vegetables and meats. Almost every Thursday, he would meet Potter again for their weekly assignment.

"After working on vegetables during the first unit of our Cooking class, it is time for you to start working on something Muggles are particularly fond of: desserts," Noracam was telling them on a cold Friday morning in November.

There was an appreciative "Oh!" in the classroom.

"Today, you're going to learn a very easy, albeit tasteful, recipe coming from Muggle America: cookies. Now the great thing about cookies is that once you know how to do the basic mixture, you can adapt it in many ways and have fun with it. However today, we will stick to the most common recipe: chocolate chip cookies."

After a few weeks working together, Potter and he had unconsciously slipped into some kind of routine, knowing instinctively what they each had to do. So without even talking about it, Draco took care of the love of his life - chocolate - while Potter started on the cookie dough.

Draco grabbed a black chocolate bar and started chopping it on the wooden board to make the chips that would go into the mixture. He had never had cookies before, so only had a slight idea of how the finished product would taste. Anything involving chocolate couldn't be bad anyway. From time to time, Draco would take a bit of chocolate and put it in his mouth, revelling in the sweet taste.

"You do realise there needs to be chocolate left for the recipe, Malfoy?"

"You do realise you are not my mother, Potty?" Draco scowled.

"Thank God for that!"

Draco wanted to strangle him but it wouldn't do his family any good, so he kept his mouth closed and went on with the task at hand.

When he was done, he paused to look at what Potter was doing. As usual, the bloody git was enjoying himself mixing the ingredients together. Soon there was flour everywhere, including on Potter's forehead. Potter was always very intense in what he was doing, always had been. He was kneading the cookie dough in a very strong, powerful way, dipping his fingers deftly into the soft dough in a way that was perfectly controlled despite its apparent roughness, massaging it, feeling it, before dipping his fingers in it all over again. Potter really had nice hands and very capable fingers. It was- _sensual_ was the word his mind provided, this mix of utter strength and subtlety at the same time.

"Right, I think I'm done here. You can add the chocolate now," Potter said, his wrists resting on the edge of the bowl, bits of cookie dough stuck to his fingers.

Draco cupped the chocolate bits in his hands and went for the bowl, dropping them in the mixture. He jumped when Potter grabbed his wrist and started running his fingers on his palms to help remove the last bits of chocolate. He couldn't move, startled by Potter's touch although Potter was being rather matter-of-fact about the whole thing, not seeming to notice his embarrassment.

Draco wasn't used to be touched in any way. The Malfoys definitely weren't the touchy-feely kind, so this simple, innocent brushing of fingers affected him more than he would have thought. It was soon over though and he hastily removed his hands from the bowl.

"And now, the best part of making cookies," Potter said with renewed enthusiasm. "The tasting!"

Without further ado, Potter dipped his index finger into the mixture and brought a small bit of it to his mouth. Draco would have found it rather disgusting - not to mention absolutely unhygienic - had Potter not been so obviously enjoying himself. He rounded his lips around his finger, hollowing his cheeks, closing his eyes, letting out a long moan of pleasure before taking it out of his mouth achingly slowly and licking it clean, the tip of his tongue running all the way up to it before he opened his eyes again and looked deep into Draco's, who was suddenly feeling very hot.

"Umm, bliss!"

Draco swallowed hard. "Er, yeah, that good then?"

Potter's mouth broke into a huge smile. Potter looked different when he smiled, almost nice.

"It's brilliant!" Then Potter scooped another bit of batter with his crooked finger and brought it to Draco's mouth. "Here. Try it."

Draco jerked his head back. Was Potter really expecting him to suck on his finger? He forcefully pushed the unwanted images his traitorous brain chose to provide him with at that moment.

"Absolutely not, Potter, are you out of your mind? You are not putting anything inside my mouth."

"Why, afraid you would like it too much?" the bastard chuckled, and Draco's eyes opened wider. He felt heat tingling on his cheeks and he was unable to utter a single word. Bloody hell!

It was a good thing Noracam chose this exact moment to speak again.

"Right, now please start spreading your cookie dough on the tray so that we can start baking it. Just take a small amount of mixture in your hand, roll it in your palm for a few seconds and then put it on the rack. Then simply press your palm to flatten it a tiny bit. That's it, Miss Granger."

Draco and Potter went for the bowl at the same time and their hands touched again. Draco withdrew his hastily as if he'd been burnt, but thankfully, Potter didn't seem to notice. Potter took a small amount of mixture in his hand, and placed it on the rack, following Noracam's instructions to the letter.

Draco then did the same, although he took much more dough than Potter had. He rolled it in his hand and pressed it onto the flat surface, before looking at it proudly.

"Ha! Mine is bigger, Potter!" he smirked.

"It's not the size that matters, Malfoy."

"Says the guy who has the smallest!"

Potter raised an eyebrow and came dangerously closer - so close, Draco could feel his warm breath on his face, invading Draco's space in an instant. "Oh yeah?" Potter murmured suggestively. "Wanna compare?"

What the hell was that? Was Potter _flirting_ with him? Or was Draco's mind so twisted that he interpreted every single word as an innuendo?

Draco hastily went back to placing his cookies on the tray. His reactions were normal. It was Potter, and Potter had _always_ managed to get to him in some way. Yes, that was it. It didn't mean anything.

The cookies were absolutely wonderful. It was by far the best thing Draco had ever tasted in his life. He was a bit disappointed with his own though, as it happened that too much dough made them enormous, the mixture spreading far while melting in the oven.

* * *

Draco had been so impressed with the cookies that he decided to take a more serious look into Muggle cooking. Over the next few weeks, Noracam provided them with dozens of new recipes, and he was amazed at how diverse and rich Muggle cuisine was. For the first time in his life, Draco admitted - though only in his head - that Muggles definitely had interesting things to share with the world. Merlin, those chocolate chip cookies? Perfection. Banana bread? Bliss. Blueberry muffins? Paradise.

Every lesson was a new discovery, and Draco couldn't believe all he had missed in the first eighteen years of his existence. The flavours, the textures, the complex savours… Every week Draco felt his taste buds explode with new sensations. Every time it was different, and every time it was perfection.

In the end, Draco realised that cooking was not very different from his all-time favourite subject, Potions. It was all a matter of precision and combining the right ingredients together. But there was also a great dose of creativity that Draco really enjoyed. Once he had acquired the basics of cooking and baking, he started experimenting, and that part was exhilarating. The possibilities were endless.

So after a particularly fascinating class on confectionery, Draco headed to the library at a good pace. He felt he didn't have all the knowledge he could, and he knew exactly where to look.

He started roaming the aisles, spending a good five minutes in the ones he already knew by heart, ending up in the Potions section – where nobody would find it weird to spot him.

He took a glance at the floating sign two rows down several times, and even almost headed there once or twice, chickening out every time someone passed behind him. He felt like everybody knew what he was on about, and that soon he would receive hell from people for it.

"Oh fuck's sake, Draco, man up," he finally growled to himself before taking a copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and heading in the direction of the Muggle Books Section.

It was foreign territory to Draco. It was almost like a foreign country. He had obviously never been there ever before, and it felt to him like he was discovering a whole new world: exciting, and a tiny bit frightening.

He cast a glance over his shoulder one last time and, realising nobody was particularly paying attention to him, finally entered the section.

He quickly skimmed the different areas, finding the one he was interested in a little bit further on his left. He hesitated for a couple of seconds and took a last look around him. But the section was deserted, so he went for it.

His eyes widened at the sight of the incredible number of Muggle Cookery Books. He honestly didn't know how many books there were here, but they made a huge impression on him: these were, unlike the usually dull wizarding books, glossy, full of colours and life. The pictures were not moving of course, but they were all so beautiful that he didn't know where to look first.

He couldn't believe his eyes and almost felt dizzy at the variety and the richness of Muggle cuisine: there were books in English, French, Italian, and many other languages. There were books devoted only to vegetables – whole fucking books about how to cook vegetables! – or meat, breakfast food and so on. Men with funny hats on were proudly displaying more refined dishes, smiling into the camera.

His eyes finally stopped on the dessert part and his heart skipped a beat. Impressive, delicious-looking cakes he didn't even know the names of, creams, biscuits, chocolate – dozens of books devoted only to Draco's love of his life – it was all too much.

He grabbed the one right in front of him – _Chocolate Desserts_ by Pierre Hermé - and scurried out of the section, feeling like a thief fleeing the crime scene, holding the book against his chest, hidden behind the Potions book.

He found a table in a secluded area, and after making sure nobody was around, he placed the book in front of him, unconsciously caressing the smooth cover before delicately opening it, like it was his most precious belonging.

He felt like he was in a trance.

He turned the pages reverently one after the other, taking in the stunning pictures of desserts he'd never imagined existed, feeling his mouth water at the sight of the incredible works of art in front of him.

Yes, works of art.

He remembered his very first lesson with Noracam, when she had told them that cooking was an art and how he had sniggered. Fuck, she had been so right!

He didn't know where to look, his fingers were trembling from the excitement he was feeling as page after page he discovered new textures, shapes and colours, opening a world of possibilities. He felt completely overwhelmed by what he saw.

He was so deeply lost in his book that he almost jumped when he heard voices coming closer. He hastily opened his Potions book and placed it on top of the Muggle desserts one, hiding it before taking out quill and parchment and pretending to work.

The voices came closer and thank God, Draco was hidden behind a bookshelf, which was fortunate since two students appeared on the other side. Draco bent his head slightly so that he could see without being seen. He gaped when he realised the two students were none other than Potter and the Weaselette.

He was afraid for a second they had been coming here to find intimacy and hoped he would not have to witness the Saviour fornicating right under his nose.

He quickly realised that apparently that wasn't the plan. He couldn't hear them – they were too far from him – but he could see them all right. The She-Weasel had a hard expression on her face, her arms folded in defence and was obviously very unhappy about what Potter was telling her. Potter was staring at the floor, tracing invisible patterns on it with his toe as he was desperately trying to tell her something she obviously was very unhappy to hear.

He felt the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile as he realised the whole thing looked like a breakup scene. He remembered hearing rumours that the Boy-Who-Lived was dating the ginger shrew but had never caught them together. He briefly wondered how Potter behaved while in love. Was he as intense as he was with everything else, like he had been while chasing the Snitch against him? He knew Potter was a hot-blooded git, but was he like that in private? Was he as passionate, giving all he had to the object of his affection?

He realised his mind had drifted away when all of a sudden, the Weaselette walked out on Potter who remained on his own, rubbing his face under his glasses. He looked- well, he looked distraught. It should have made Draco happy but for some reason, he felt rather sorry for Potter. He glanced at his books, pondering if he should do something, but when he lifted his eyes again, Potter had gone.

* * *

When Draco pushed open the door to the Cooking Classroom that Thursday night, Potter hadn't arrived yet.

He was quite happy with that. At least he would have some peace and quiet to work. He went to the workstation and retrieved this week's assignment.

He put his apron on and started taking out the ingredients he would need. He looked again at the recipe. Pancakes. Draco liked pancakes very much, but he liked crepes better. Crepes were a variation of pancakes. They were larger and thinner. Lighter as well. Draco had first come across crepes while on holiday in France when he was a child. Crepes with melted chocolate? Absolute perfection.

He was very tempted to make crepes instead of pancakes. He wanted to get off the beaten path and test his skills. Potter had still not arrived anyway, so he could do what he wanted. The bugger would just have to comply with what Draco had in mind.

He started with the basic ingredients: milk, vegetable oil, flour, and eggs. Draco beat them all together with a whisk. He was getting very fast and efficient at it. He tasted the mixture, a habit he had taken after Potter had showed him the way with the cookies.

Hum. It was okay. Not great though. He could do better.

He tried to think of what he could do to improve the basic recipe and started the whole process again, replacing the vegetable oil with olive oil - stronger and tastier - added some caster sugar and a tiny pinch of salt just to season it.

When Potter finally arrived, Draco was cooking the crepes. He had completely forgotten about him, as taken by his experimentation as he was.

He lifted his head and saw Potter's face.

The worshipped hero, the Defeater of the Dark Lord, the Saviour of the Wizarding world looked like shit. He had huge bags under his eyes as if he hadn't slept at all the previous night, and his hair looked even messier than it usually did, although Draco didn't know it was possible. But what surprised Draco the most was the look of defeat on Potter's face. That really was out of character.

"Shut up. Just shut up," Potter mumbled.

Without a word, Draco nodded and handed him his apron, and he put it on.

That night, they worked in complete silence.

* * *

Draco couldn't take his mind off Potter and the utter look of distress he had seen on his face the previous night.

Potter appeared for breakfast the next day unshaven and looking like he hadn't slept at all. Weasley and Granger were with him at all times, taking turns sitting next to him during classes, except during the cooking class where he had to sit next to Draco.

Like the previous night, they worked in silence.

When Thursday night came, Draco made a point to be there on time, but Potter wasn't.

Draco was excited to get to work on this week's assignment, which was going to present a bit of a challenge. He started taking out the ingredients to make their lemon soufflés. They had learned the basics of soufflés during class last Friday and Draco couldn't wait trying it. It was a delicate dessert; it needed precision in the heating.

He had just finished preparing the ramekins - greasing them with butter, then sprinkling a small amount of sugar into each one of them - when Potter arrived, looking as strained as he had been all week.

Draco went to set the ramekins aside in the fridge and handed him his apron without a word. When Potter had put it on, Draco reached for the flask he had kept hidden under his robes the whole time. In there was his father's best Firewhisky that Draco had snatched over the summer, thinking he would probably need it at some point, although this was the first time he actually was using it.

Without a word, he handed the flask to Potter who narrowed his eyes in distrust.

Draco sighed. "I'm not trying to poison you, if that's what you're afraid of." And to prove his point, he opened the flask and took a sip of the Firewhisky. It burned his throat, but it was pretty good. Draco held it out for Potter again.

Potter considered him for a moment before finally taking the flask and taking a swig. He swallowed it and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Fuck, shit's strong!"

"Not used to real men's drinks, Potty?"

"You wanna bet?" And with that, Potter took another swig.

"Hey, don't keep it all to yourself, Scarhead!" Draco snatched the flask from him and brought it to his lips.

Potter was staring at him, an odd look on his face, and it was making him uncomfortable.

"What?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Draco shrugged. "You look like you need it." He passed the flask to Potter, who drank again.

"I-"

"It's fine, Potty, don't strain yourself. I don't give a fuck." And with that he snatched the flask from Potter's hands. He was starting to get hot. "We have soufflés to make."

They started to work. As usual, they each worked on their part. Potter took care of the lemons - grating the yellow outer skin to get the zest and then pressing them to retrieve the juice - while Draco separated the eggs and added sugar to the yolks. They worked quietly, alternating sips from the flask, Draco enjoying the fact he was starting to get slightly tipsy. He poured the mixture into the melted butter and cooked it for a couple of minutes. Potter then whisked in the hot milk and they waited for it to reach a boil. At that point, Draco was feeling lighter. He had never really been drunk before, nor had he drunk much Firewhisky at all, but the whole thing felt rather nice and made spending the night with Potter much more bearable.

"I've always hated soufflés," Potter complained, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Why is that?"

"Because my aunt would always ruin them, and then she would shout and beat the crap out of me because she said it was all my fault. That my simple presence had made the soufflé go flat."

"A very sensible person."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "She believed I was a freak because I was a wizard."

"Point of detail," Draco had a dismissing gesture. "And that's because you _are_ a freak. Did she make your life miserable then?"

"Oh yes, she did."

Draco said dreamily. "What a wonderful woman, I would very much like to meet her!"

"If you like mean, sadistic people so much, why don't you just go home to the Manor and pay a visit to your father?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and tried to sound menacing, but a hiccough turned down the effect dramatically. "Don't talk about my father like that, Potter."

"Sorry Malfoy, only the truth hurts."

Draco grabbed Potter's collar and brought their faces closer. "Wanna fight, Potty?"

Potter burst out laughing. "God no! I am way too pissed!"

Draco released him. "Thank Merlin, me too."

He removed the saucepan from the heat while Potter started beating the egg yolks. His movements were rather sharp and fast for someone who had ingested an unreasonable amount of Firewhisky. Draco was focused on Potter's efficient wrist movement and wondered fleetingly if that was what he looked like when he was jerking off.

"What?" Potter asked as he caught Draco staring.

"Nothing- It's just- Is it me or is it hot in here?" he said, swiftly looking away from Potter's hands, removing his jumper and unfastening his tie. Potter stared at him. "What?" he said, running his hand in his hair that had been mussed by his jumper.

"Nothing," Potter said thoughtfully and took another gulp of Firewhisky.

It took them a while to finish the soufflés, their movements getting slower and slower with every sip they took from the flask. When the ramekins were finally all in the oven and they had to wait for them to cook, they sank to the floor and sat side by side against the wall.

"Fuck, I can't believe I'm here making fucking soufflés instead of being in Auror training."

"Poor Potty Potter, not being able to chase the bad guys and being stuck cooking like a house-elf with a mean Death Eater instead," Draco slurred.

Potter looked at him blankly. "So you really were? A Death Eater I mean?"

Draco looked at him intently. It was starting to get hard for him to focus on things with his head being in a sort of haze from the alcohol. His movements were slow, but it was a rather nice sensation.

He smiled. The boy still doubted it. He still doubted that Draco would have gone that far. He slowly undid the button of his left sleeve, very conscious of the fact he would somehow disappoint Potter, and rolled it up to his elbow, revealing the very present Dark Mark underneath. He heard Potter gasp at the sight.

"Shit, Malfoy. It's- shit!"

"As articulate as ever, Potter."

Potter couldn't keep his eyes from the Mark. "Can I- Can I touch it?"

"Sure, Potty, help yourself to my body," Draco answered. He was sure in another context this sentence could have had a rather ambiguous meaning.

He held out his forearm and felt Potter hesitating. "It's not gonna bite you, you know."

"Yeah." Potter grabbed his wrist, and his grasp was delicate, more so than Draco would have expected from the stupid Gryffindor. Draco wasn't used to people touching him. The alcohol must have helped. Potter lifted Draco's arm closer up to his eyes and hesitated before he traced his finger smoothly on the outline of the skull. His touch, soft as a feather, made Draco's hair stand on end, and goosebumps erupted over his skin but Potter didn't seem to notice. Draco couldn't remove his eyes from him.

Potter was fascinated by his Mark, and Draco was fascinated by Potter.

"Did it hurt?" Potter asked after a while, his eyes and finger never leaving Draco's skin. He was so close to it that Draco stupidly thought for an instant that Potter was about to kiss it.

"No, it was a walk in the park. I very much enjoyed the experience. Of course, Potter, it hurt - it hurt like hell, what do you think?" Potter started chuckling and Draco hastily removed his arm from his grip and rolled his sleeve down. "That's not funny."

"No! Oh no, it's not- it's not that it's just- I pictured you and Voldemort taking a walk in the park hand in hand."

"Still not funny. Here, drink, that'll prevent you from saying ridiculous things," and Draco handed him the Firewhisky.

Potter took another gulp and started laughing a stupid, drunken laugh.

"Feeling better?" Draco slurred. Well, if Potter was drunk, Draco was just behind him.

"Yeah…" Potter's eyes were shining now, and his enunciation, like his movements, was slower. "Thank you, Draco_._"

Had Draco been sober, he would have jumped at Potter calling him by his first name, but since he was rather drunk, he didn't react quickly enough and was still trying to register the fact when he felt Potter's head on his shoulder. He thought about protesting, but it would have made Potter move his head, and Draco quite liked it where it was.

"She wouldn't listen," Potter said softly.

"Who?"

"She doesn't understand. No matter how many times I tell her, she doesn't understand."

Draco chuckled and it made Potter's head on his shoulder shake as well and his messy hair brushed the skin of Draco's neck in a nice way.

"Potty, who is the She?"

"Oh! Sorry. Ginny."

"Weasley's sister?"

"Yeah."

"What doesn't she understand?"

Potter turned his head to look into his eyes, and Draco could feel his warm, heavy alcoholic breath on him and it made him shiver.

"That she is not what I want."

"Oh. And what is it you want?" Draco murmured.

He could have sworn their faces had not been so close a moment before, as Potter's eyes searched his face, slowly roaming about it, from Draco's eyes down to his mouth and back to his eyes again. Potter inched closer, opened his mouth slightly and-

The oven beeped and they both jumped, breaking their drunken trance. They pathetically tried to get to their feet, clinging to each other and laughing like mad when they fell on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"Shit!" Draco said still laughing like a madman, finally managing to stand up, but swiftly resting his hand on the counter to avoid falling again. He was dizzy and the room seemed to be moving on its own. He remembered Potter was still on the floor and held out a hand that the boy took. They staggered and nearly fell down again and laughed like crazy. Draco was past drunk, but he couldn't give a shit; he was enjoying himself way too much. It'd been a long time since he had laughed his arse off like this.

Potter finally managed to get on his feet, and they staggered to the oven, holding on to each other. They opened the oven and received a huge wave of heat in their faces that surprised them. They remained silent for a couple of seconds before looking at each other and bursting out laughing again. Draco didn't know how they managed to take the soufflés out without burning themselves and then clean the whole classroom.

They did what they could.

They headed to the door still laughing. Draco opened it and Potter stepped out. Draco followed suit but bumped into his back rather hard and grabbed Potter's shoulders to regain his balance.

He laughed again but soon sobered up when he realised why Potter had stopped.

The She-Weasel was standing there, eyes and mouth wide open, as if she couldn't believe what was going on in front of her eyes.

"Harry?"

Potter looked utterly sheepish, and Draco instantly hated the girl for sucking all the joy out of him.

"Malfoy, I should have known. Didn't take you long to corrupt him," she spat, looking at him from head to toe and shaking her head in disbelief when Draco staggered and only managed to remain standing thanks to Potter's firm grip on his arm.

He scowled at her. As if Saint Potter could be corrupted by anyone.

"Come here, Harry," she said gently.

"Ginny, I-"

"You need to go to bed," and with that she wrapped her arm around Potter. She shot a last dark look in Draco's direction before taking Potter away. In all his drunken stupor, Draco couldn't take his eyes off the two of them wrapped around each other.

And then there it was.

It wasn't much.

It was in Weasley's possessive arm around Potter.

It was in the way Potter turned one last time to look at him and it was in the terrible ache Draco felt in his stomach at that precise moment.

It wasn't much, but suddenly it was everything.

* * *

Draco woke up with the headache of the century. Every single sound was amplified and his head pounded like crazy.

He managed to drag himself to the Great Hall for breakfast and sat between Blaise and Pansy, despite Blaise's protests. He immediately rested his head in his hands, his elbows on the table and his eyes closed.

"You okay, Draco?" Pansy cooed next to him.

"Don't- just don't talk to me," he snapped.

"Had a rough night?" Blaise stepped in.

Draco lifted his head to glare at him. "What do you think?"

"Well, you're not the only one looking like shit," Blaise said, tilting his chin in the direction of the Gryffindor table. Potter indeed looked like he had been knocked down by an angry Hungarian Horntail. He looked up and their eyes met for an instant. Then Weasley said something to him and Potter averted his gaze. "Been getting wasted with the Saviour?" Blaise insisted.

"Only way to spend a whole evening with him and keep my sanity intact."

"Here, Draco, have some bacon," Pansy said, filling his plate. Blaise frowned.

"You don't happen to have hangover potion instead?" Draco scowled.

"Sorry."

* * *

It wasn't long until they got together again for Cooking class.

"So, did Mummy put you to bed all right last night?" Draco snarled as soon as Potter sat down next to him.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"Um, that bad?"

Potter didn't have time to reply. Noracam had come to their workstation. "Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy, I'd like you to come and see me right after class. There is something I would very much like to discuss with you." She left without waiting for their reply.

Potter and he looked at each other.

"Uh-oh," Potter said.

"Yep," Draco replied. He wasn't sure what everything was all about, but knew it wasn't good.

It wasn't easy to focus with a massive headache, Draco realised, and the class dragged on endlessly. Their soufflés were surprisingly good, despite the approximations in measurements their alcohol ingestion had caused.

At the end of the class, they stayed behind, waiting for Noracam. Draco was leaning against their workstation, arms folded on his chest, staring at the floor. He had never been the most courageous guy on earth.

"Thank you for waiting," Noracam started, and Draco forced himself to look at her. He couldn't read anything from her face though. "I was rather displeased when I arrived in the classroom this morning, and angry too. You were the two last students working on your assignments yesterday night and the state you left the classroom in is absolutely shameful."

Here we go, Draco thought. He cast a sideways glance at Potter who was fixedly looking at Noracam.

"It is my duty to inform you that should anything like that happen again, I would have to give you detention."

"Right, I can guarantee you it won't happen again," Potter replied. Draco noticed he had not apologised though.

"I'm counting on it, Mr Potter. However, there is something else I'd like to say." Draco looked up at her. "I have been teaching the Art of Cooking for over thirty years now and I can recognise a natural when I see one," she turned to him. "I must admit, Mr Malfoy, that I was rather sceptical when I first saw you in my class. I know where you come from. I know what your family did." At that point, it was as if Charity Burbage's ghost was flying among them; it wasn't visible, but it was well and truly present. "And I must say I didn't have very high expectations for you."

"Wait," Potter cut in. "With all due respect, Professor, Draco's past or family don't have anything to do with you teaching him like any other student." It was a foolish thing to say, but Draco was somehow touched by the gesture. They locked eyes for a few seconds before Draco brought his attention back to Noracam.

"Of course, Mr Potter. But that's not the point. The point is, I'm happy to have met you, Mr Malfoy. I've been observing you for quite a while now and I must say, I'm impressed. Very impressed. Like I said, you are a natural. You instinctively know what's going to work and what's not. You have a way of combining things and transforming the ingredients I give you that brings total creativity and inventiveness to the recipes."

Draco couldn't believe his ears. He was good at something. Well, he's always been a good student - still was a very good one even - but nobody had so bluntly told him things like that. Ever. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had found something he was not only good at, but that he also loved doing.

"You must understand that I'm not one to give compliments to any student. And I know you've been doing some research on your own as well. Madam Pince informed me someone has been borrowing books from the Muggle section of the library."

"Really?" Potter said, looking at Draco once again, a look of huge surprise on his face.

Draco shrugged. "Well, yes, I was bored one day and-"

"No, Mr Malfoy, I know you've been there many times over the last few weeks."

"Why, are you following all your students like that?"

"Only the ones who borrow my all-time favourite books. I've been waiting for weeks for _Chocolate Desserts_ to come back to the library, you know?"

"Oh, I-"

"That's fine. Keep it as long as you need it. It's just- I'd like to help, and I'd like to give you more to do. More challenging things to do. I want to push you. You've learned the basics of cooking and baking in less than three months, which is really impressive. I believe you can only get better if you're correctly taught. Now, Mr Potter…"

"Yes?"

"I wanted to see you as well, because you're Mr Malfoy's partner and I need your agreement on this. Would you be okay if I were to assign you two more challenging recipes?"

"I-, well, I don't know, aren't I going to slow Malfoy down in his progress?"

"No. You're not bad yourself, you see. I'm very happy I got the two of you together. The Headmistress was rather worried at first, but I must admit, your cooperation has exceeded my expectations."

"Well, if Malfoy is okay with it, it's fine by me. Malfoy?"

"Yes, I guess, yes."

"Great! That's settled then!"

* * *

Noracam kept her promise. The next week, they were given carte blanche for their chocolate cake.

Draco was particularly excited with this assignment, because well, chocolate, and also the fact that he was going to be able to put into practice what he had learned in _Chocolate Desserts._

He would not make do with simple chocolate cake. Noracam had allowed him to take liberties with the assignments she was giving them, and he revelled in it. So last Friday, he had told Potter he wanted something a tiny bit more stimulating and started researching a recipe that would be challenging but not too hard, for he wasn't working on his own.

They settled on molten centre chocolate cakes with custard. Potter seemed happy to follow Draco in his plans.

Potter was working on the custard while Draco made the chocolate cakes. He took out the ganache he had prepared the night before, allowing it to gently cool in the fridge overnight so that it was firm enough. He then pre-heated the oven and greased a few ramekins, coating them with sugar and placing them on a baking tray.

After that, he melted the butter and chocolate with the bain-marie method, whisking it gently until it was smooth, and he removed it from the heat. At the same time, Potter was stirring his custard but it was thickening a tiny bit too fast for Draco's taste.

"Lower the heat slightly," he told Potter.

"Right."

Draco started whipping the eggs, egg yolks and sugar for a couple of minutes. His movements were smooth and precise, unlike his very first trials. He could feel Potter's eyes on his hands and he smiled softly. There was always a moment when Potter would unconsciously stop focusing on his part of the job to look at whatever Draco was doing.

And there it was again. This incredible feeling of sheer happiness, of everything fitting right into place. He felt utterly elated at being here, cooking, experimenting, and sharing it all with Potter. He realised that despite everything, he wouldn't want anybody else by his side. He felt good with Potter and things were simple and pleasant - nice even - between them. He didn't feel like he had to play a role and be somebody else anymore. In here, he could completely be himself and it was a highly liberating feeling.

He added the melted chocolate, sifting in the cocoa powder before grabbing the beaters and folding the whole thing in. He divided the batter between the cold ramekins - he had requested four plus an additional one for Potter and himself (a habit they had taken right from the beginning) before he let the whole thing chill.

He took a look at Potter's custard. "I think it's done, let me taste it."

Potter dipped the tablespoon in the custard and handed it to Draco, placing his left hand underneath to avoid it to drip everywhere and Draco gently took his wrist, bringing the custard to his lips. Draco could feel Potter's gaze on him and he knew he was holding his breath, waiting for his feedback.

"Mmm, not bad, Potter, not bad," and Potter beamed at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, making Draco's stomach flutter crazily.

He hastily let go of Potter's wrist and went back to his chocolate cakes. He spooned the chilled ganache into even truffles, rolling them between his palms to shape them before gently placing each one of them into the centre of each of the cakes, pressing down into the batter slightly, being very careful not to let them touch the bottom.

He then put the tray in the oven, allowing them to bake for a few minutes during which he cleaned up his workstation. He knew cleaning was part of the job and he made it a point of honour to always have a clean place to work.

When the top of each cake had domed up a bit, he took them out and let them sit for a couple of minutes.

"God that smells heavenly, Draco."

And it was true. The smell wafting from the cakes was simply divine. He was in chocolate bliss.

He lifted each and every cake with a towel and ran a spatula around them to loosen, before placing a plate overtop and inverting then lifting off the ramekin.

Finally, he garnished them with a dusting of icing sugar. He took his wand (they were allowed to use them for this part of the assignment only) and performed the stasis charm on the four remaining ramekins. Potter poured the custard all around the cakes.

It looked - and smelled - absolutely amazing.

This was the moment Draco preferred: the tasting. They had a little ritual where they would stand by the table behind their own, holding the plate together, spoon in hand, and Potter would say, "Ready?" and Draco would reply, "Go!" before they dug in.

There were a few seconds when nothing happened, and then, Potter spoke.

"Mmm, Draco, it's a killer! It's even better than your Sticky Toffee Pudding last week, and that was already heaven! Fuck, you're the best, you have to know that!"

"It's okay." Nobody had ever told Draco he was the best at anything before baking had entered his life, and he still had a hard time believing it was possible.

"Okay? God, this is beyond amazing. Do you have any idea how good you are?"

Draco felt his heart beat faster at Potter's compliment. "Well, what do you think, Potter, of course I do! I'm the most talented, skilled, brilliantly sharp mind you have ever met."

Potter chuckled and put the empty plate away. "If only you would believe in your own propaganda," he muttered, and their eyes locked. For a second, Draco's whole world seemed to be reduced to this tiny spot near the table.

"Well…" he shrugged, looking away.

And then it happened.

Before Draco could realise what was going on, Potter lunged at him and crushed his mouth on his, holding him in place with his hands on his cheeks. It took a couple of seconds for him to realise what was going on, and then the force of what was happening hit him like a brick and he felt himself responding to Potter's kiss. He felt one of Potter's hands move from his cheeks to the nape of his neck while the other ran down the small of his back, bringing their bodies flush together.

The pure adrenalin of it rushed to Draco's head. Potter was kissing him like he was chasing the Snitch on the Quidditch pitch: with passion, strength and determination. He slammed Draco into the workstation and intensified the kiss, and Draco let out a low moan, completely overwhelmed with sensations - the heat of Potter's body, his dizzying scent mingled with the delicious smell of the chocolate cakes, the pressure of his hard chest and - bloody Salazar! - his very obvious arousal.

Feeling Potter's erection against his own was like a wake-up call. Suddenly Draco realised the enormity of what they were doing and shoved Potter hard, keeping the boy at arm's length. He couldn't. He just couldn't. That was not-

"No."

"Draco-"

"NO!"

"Draco, wait!"

But he couldn't think, his mind was overcrowded with a multitude of emotions, feelings and more rational thoughts that were fighting hard to overcome the others. He ran out of the classroom, all the way through the long corridors and only stopped when he had put enough distance between Potter and himself.

He had a hard time registering what had just happened. It was not the kiss itself - no, what unsettled him was just how much he had wanted it and how eagerly he had responded to it. He had not even tried to fight it. Part of him rejected the idea with all his might, while another just craved for it to happen again. To feel those soft, thin lips against his, the strong arms around him, the firm body, the excitement, the need, and above all, to know that someone - and not just anyone - wanted him so badly.

Yes, that was it. After all the hexes, the scorn, the bastards spitting in his face down Diagon Alley, someone who knew perfectly well who he was, what he had done, someone who had seen him at his lowest - who had saved his life for fuck's sake - this someone, Harry sodding Potter, wanted to kiss him and had done so without any afterthought.

He went back to the common room. He needed to see his friends.

No, he needed Pansy.

* * *

When he arrived in the common room, Blaise was lying on the sofa near the fireplace, his head in Pansy's lap.

"Draco?" Pansy asked, lifting her head to look at him.

"I need to talk to you," he said without even stopping. "Now."

"Sure! Move over, Blaise!"

"Hey!" Blaise scowled.

"I'll talk to you later, this is an emergency!"

They went up to Draco's room.

"What's going on Dr- umpf!"

As soon as he had closed the door, he had pressed his lips to hers. He needed to know. He needed to know if he was still _normal_. So he kissed her, and she responded to the kiss at first, so Draco intensified it and held her in place with his hands on her shoulders, before he backed away swiftly and looked at her, horrified by what he had just done.

Pansy was standing there petrified, eyes wide open in shock, her right hand slowly coming up to her mouth. Draco went to sit on his bed, taking his head in his hands.

Nothing. He had felt absolutely nothing. It was too soft, her body was too smooth, and there had been no excitement in the kiss. Nothing compared to-

"What the hell was that, Draco?" He felt the mattress dip next to him. "What is going on?"

"Nothing, I-" He looked up at her. "Look, I'm sorry, Pansy, I really didn't mean to-"

"Just talk to me, Draco, I want to help."

He sniggered. "There's nothing you can do. Just go now."

"But-"

"NOW!"

He knew it was unfair to take it out her, but he just couldn't take it anymore.

"No."

"What?" He lifted his head to look at her. Pansy had never, ever stood up to him, although she didn't seem so sure of herself now that he was looking at her.

"I said no. Draco, God I hate having to say this, but a couple of years ago, I would have _killed_ for you to kiss me like you just did," Draco gave her an odd look. "Oh come on, please don't tell me you haven't noticed the huge, gigantic crush I had on you back then. It was the size of the Atlantic!"

Draco shook his head slowly. "You guys are so oblivious sometimes!" she sighed dramatically. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I don't- I- let's say I've moved on and I don't love you like that anymore. I love you like mad, but only as a friend, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Weirdly enough, Pansy's constant babbling was rather distracting. "To the point, Pansy."

"The point is, WHAT THE HELL HAS GONE THROUGH THAT THICK HEAD OF YOURS?"

"Excuse me?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, are you crazy? Do you have any idea what Blaise would do if he knew?"

"Blaise? What does Blaise have to do with anything?" And then it all dawned on Draco. "Blaise is in love with me?" he said bewildered. Shit, today really was fucked up!

"Oh my god, Draco, what IS wrong with you?" she whined, a look of deep concern on her face. "Have you hit your head hard? Has someone cursed you? Have you kissed Harry Potter?" or so the last bit sounded to Draco's ears, the real version being closer to: "Have you pissed off Potter?"

"Er, no, none of the above."

"Blaise would kill you if he knew because…" She blushed slightly. "Because we're- He likes me."

Draco burst out laughing but then realised it hadn't been a joke at all. "Oh, you mean you're- I mean you and him are… ?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Shit. Pansy? And Blaise?

"So now that you know all about my little secret, tell me why the fuck you tried to jump me not five minutes ago."

"I-" he sighed. What could he say? He knew Pansy wouldn't drop it. "I needed to check something."

"You needed to check something," she repeated as if he were a five year old.

Draco nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And what is it exactly you needed to check?" Pansy was scrutinising him.

"I-" Shit, shit, shit. What could he say? "I-"

"Draco…" she said menacingly. "If you don't spit it out right now, I'm going down to get Blaise and tell him everything."

"You wouldn't!"

"I so would."

"No, you-"

She stood up at once and headed for the door. "Try me." What a bitch!

"Fine, I'll tell you, but you have to promise me to never, ever tell anyone, not even Blaise. You promise me?"

"Of course, Draco, anything."

"Fine." She went to sit next to him again. Draco took a deep breath. "I may- I may have kissed someone I shouldn't have."

Pansy's face lit up with excitement but she said nothing.

"Someone I really, really shouldn't have kissed." He paused again, looking deep into her eyes. She looked like she was about to explode.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Draco, spit it out! You're killing me here! Who was it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Take a guess."

"Oh, Draco, no! Please don't start the ridiculous games! I'm that close to peeing all over your bed cover, you know?"

He scowled at her. "Don't you dare. It's silk."

"Was it Millie?"

Draco had a look of utter horror on his face. "What? No fucking way! Are you out of your mind, Pansy?"

"Okay, okay, okay. Er, Daphne?"

"It's not a Slytherin." _Oh, and not a girl either,_ Draco was dying to say. And not dying to at the same time.

"Not a Slytherin?" Pansy looked absolutely horrified. She wouldn't have looked worse had Draco announced he had just drowned her kittens before cutting them into pieces and making a necklace out of them.

"No."

"Oh my God! Don't tell me it's a Hufflepuff!"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I'm not _that_ desperate!"

"Okay, okay, so… Gryffindor?" Pansy said with an air of utter disgust on her face.

"Yes," Draco answered sheepishly. How could he have stooped so low? "Sorry."

"Oh Draco… What on earth has happened to you?" And then she opened her eyes wide and placed her hand on her mouth. "Oh my god, please don't tell me it's Granger!"

Draco looked sternly at her. "Again, are you out of you fucking mind?"

"Well, I'm giving up. I have no idea."

"It's Potter," Draco mumbled, half hoping Pansy wouldn't hear him.

"What?" she whispered. "Come again?"

"Potter."

"But- but- but-"

"Yeah."

"But Potter is a_ boy!_" she blurted, as if Draco had not realised that by now.

"Glad that detail has not escaped you. Ever thought of becoming an Auror, Pansy? What with your incredible deduction skills and all that."

"I mean he's a- Draco, are you gay?"

Draco shrugged. There it was. That word again.

Gay.

Gay, gay, gay.

Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.

"Oh, Draco!" Pansy took him in a hug so tight, he had difficulties breathing. "It's okay, you know," she murmured gently. Draco had never, ever heard her murmur anything before, and he'd known her forever. She broke the hug to look at him. "Does that mean that from now on you'll come shopping with me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure, and I'll take you to see musicals and oh, we could go and have a manicure together at some point."

Pansy opened her eyes in awe. "Really?"

"NO, not really, Pansy, are you crazy? I've kissed a boy, that doesn't make me a girl!"

"Oh, too bad, I would've loved having a new girlfriend. I haven't got any," she pouted.

"That's because you're mean to every girl who dares approach you, Pansy."

"That's no news," she smiled slyly. "What_ is_ news, though, is that you have kissed Potter! Oh my God, Draco! I just can't wait to-"

"You promised," Draco growled.

"Oh, please, Draco!"

"No."

She sighed. "Fine. But at least tell me how it was?"

"I- well, it was okay." It had been brilliant. It had been like riding a broom although much, much better. And he had ruined it. "Don't you find it repulsing?"

"What, that you've kissed a boy?" Draco nodded. "Are you crazy? I find it hot! Could you two do it again in front of m-"

"No way. You're not watching us."

"Oh, because there's an 'us', now?"

"I-" He had not thought about that. "I don't know. Is there?"

"Well, you tell me. I'm not the one who kissed Potter!"

"Who kissed Potter?" Blaise said opening the door to Draco's room.

Draco blanched. He couldn't-

"Draco did."

"PANSY! I'm gonna kill you!"

"Nah, you won't. You'd be too unhappy without me. Besides, who would you take to the manicure salon?"

"You've kissed Potter?" Blaise said, taking the chair from Draco's desk and straddling it, facing the two of them on the bed. "How did that happen?"

Draco wanted to dig a deep hole and hide in it forever. Instead, he hid his face in his hands. But, wait. Blaise wasn't shouting at him? He wasn't calling him a freak, threatening to tell the whole school, or worse, his father that he was like… _that_?

"You don't look terribly surprised," Draco managed to say, slowly removing his hands.

"Well, to be honest, I was wondering how long it would take for the two of you to finally let go of all the animosity."

"What?"

"Seriously, Draco? Have you met the two of you? Always fighting, trying to attract the other's attention, all the tension? I honestly don't understand how this has not happened way before!"

Draco couldn't believe his ears. His friend - one of his best friends - had not only accepted the fact that Draco was possibly _different_ - even while Draco himself was still struggling with the whole concept - but he had figured things out way before Draco did? Fuck, how could he have been in denial for so long?

"So, what happened after the kiss?" Pansy enquired.

Draco looked at his feet. "I- er, I kind of ran away."

"What?"

"You did what?"

Pansy and Blaise said it at the same time, and they exchanged a knowing look. Why had Draco never noticed what there was between them before?

"Yeah…"

"For fuck's sake, Draco! You have to do something! Now!"

"What? Why?"

"Because," Blaise explained, "Potter must be wondering if he is such a terrible kisser, and we wouldn't want that."

"Is he?" Pansy asked.

"What?"

"A terrible kisser, Draco!"

"What? I'm not answering this!"

"Oh then that mea-"

There was a knock on the door. They all looked at each other.

"Draco?" Potter's muffled voice came through the door. "Draco, are you in here?"

Pansy went to open the door.

There he was, on his doorstep. Draco felt his heart beat faster.

"Oh you're-" Potter started. "I can-"

"Pansy and I were just leaving," Blaise said, standing up.

"No, we weren't- ouch! Blaise, you brute!"

Blaise took Pansy by the elbow and dragged her out of the room. "See you later, Draco, have fun!" Blaise said mischievously. Potter stepped in and closed the door behind him.

* * *

"So, you've told them?" Potter started, joining Draco on the bed.

"I- well," Draco trailed off.

"That's okay, you know. I have nothing to hide."

"Right," Draco looked down at his feet. "Why did you do that?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"What? Kissing you?" Potter shrugged. "I just felt like doing it."

"And as usual, you've acted before thinking," Draco mumbled. Fucking Potter.

"And the problem is?"

"Well, you shouldn't have."

"Look, I don't know why you're making a big deal out of it. I wanted to kiss you, so I did. You didn't seem to be complaining much down there."

Draco felt anger quickly creeping inside him. Who did Potter think he was? Did he really think he could make fun of Draco like that?

An irrational fear started gripping Draco. What if that was what it was all about in the end? Of course it was! How could Draco have believed for one second that Potter had kissed him because he had really wanted to? No, that was just part of Potter's evil plan to mess with Draco's head and ridicule him.

"That's it. Just leave," Draco said, standing up and walking to the door.

"What?"

"You heard me. Go away."

Potter narrowed his eyes but didn't budge. "Why?"

"You won't make fun of me anymore."

"What? Is that really what you think I'm doing?" Potter stood up and walked - closer to Draco, who tensed up instantly at the boy's proximity.

"Of course, Potter. All your ridiculous flirting and assumptions that I am- well, something I am most definitely NOT, and then that? You don't have any more Dark Lords to kill, so you can't help making my life miserable?"

Potter searched Draco's face for a long time before answering. "Oh, Draco. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"What?"

Potter shook his head in disbelief and came closer still, reaching for Draco's face and gently caressing his cheek. Draco shivered at the touch. Shit, why was Potter always making him react like that?

"Pretending you're someone else. Draco, it's okay to be gay, you know. It's no big deal."

At his words, Draco got mad and harshly removed Potter's hand from his face. "Oh yeah? Really, Potter? Once again you get to be the bigger man in all that? I don't need you patronising me. You know nothing about me, and especially not about that. How many times do I have to tell you, Potty. I am NOT fucking _like that_, not for one second, so stop taking your little fantasies for something they're not and go shag all the fucking men you want to, but leave me the fuck alone. I don't intend to indulge in your depraved behaviour. I will do as planned, marry a woman and have an heir." Draco involuntarily winced at his last words.

Potter looked at him for a long time, scrutinising him, an annoying little knowing smile on his face. His intense gaze made Draco uneasy. Potter then came closer and Draco couldn't move.

He was petrified.

And then Potter spoke in a low, husky voice that went directly to Draco's groin. "You have no idea how much you turn me on when you talk like that. I could just throw you down on your bed and suck your cock until you came hard in my mouth, and swallow every single drop of it," and with that, he flicked his tongue out and ran the tip of it on his lips.

Draco whimpered pathetically and closed his eyes, which wasn't a good idea because that's the moment his brain chose to show him pictures of what Potter had just told him he wanted to do to him.

He was so hard, it was almost painful.

He flicked his eyes open and swallowed hard when Potter took a look at his obvious arousal before leaning forward and whispering in his ear. "Straight men don't get hard as hell when other men tell them things like that. They beat the crap out of them. So get over it, Malfoy, you're as straight as I am."

Draco had to admit Potter had a point. Which was really annoying. He went to sit on his bed again, trying to forget all about his indecent state of arousal.

"I can't," he simply said, running his hands on his face. "I can't afford being- like that."

"Say it."

"Huh?"

Potter resumed his place next to him. "Say it, Draco. There's nothing wrong with the word 'gay' as there's nothing wrong with being one as well. Don't let it scare you."

"I'm not scared, Potter."

"So say it!"

"I-I-" God, he was pathetic.

"See? You can't even say the word!"

"Fuck you, Potter."

"I'd really like that, but I'm not sure you're quite ready for that yet," Potter said very matter-of-factly.

Draco wanted nothing but to run far, far away.

"Say it," Potter said again.

"Fine, I may- I could probably be- ah, er, perhaps I could be a tiny bit_ gay. _There, you happy?" Draco snapped.

Potter's face broke into a huge smile. "Very. Thank you, Draco."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Potter? Why can't you help making me feel like shit, making me believe in things that-"

"Oh my God, you still think I'm leading you on, don't you?"

Of course that's what Draco was thinking! How could he not? After all that had happened between them in the past?

"Here," Potter said, and before Draco could realise what was going on, Potter grabbed his hand and pressed it onto his jeans between his legs.

Draco gasped at the touch of Potter's very present and rather impressive erection, which made Draco even harder, something he had not thought possible.

Potter looked at him with the same intense gaze he had sported earlier on. "_This_ is me being so hard for you, Draco. I can't fake this. This is what you're doing to me."

Draco had difficulties breathing at that point, especially since Potter kept rubbing their hands back and forth on his erection.

It got worse when Potter moved their hands to press them on Draco's own arousal. "And_ this_ is you being hard for me. You can't control it any more than I can. I don't know if you really _are_ gay - you would need other, well, experiments to make sure - but what I do know is that I am a guy, and I am making you feel like this. And it's okay. You shouldn't fight it."

When Potter brought his lips to his, it was so tentative and so different to the bold, fearless attitude he had earlier on that Draco let out a soft moan and felt his last resolve melt away completely.

This time, he didn't back down and fully responded to the kiss, moving his lips against Potter's, letting the boy wrap his arms around him, pulling Draco closer. He didn't back down either when Potter's tongue met his and the kiss intensified, nor did he say anything when Potter gently laid him down on his bed, his eyes never leaving his.

And when Potter started moving on top of him, creating incredible friction on his already over-sensitive dick, it didn't take long for Draco to completely lose it and come hard in his pants, not caring for one second if he was gay, straight or bi.

* * *

That was that, and then things were exactly the same as they had been the day before.

The world had not changed dramatically after Draco had given in to a boy. It had not imploded, and Draco himself didn't feel all that different.

He sat with Potter in cooking class like every Friday, and they bickered and fought like they did every Friday.

It was only in tiny little details, imperceptible to the rest of the world, that Draco knew some things had changed: the way Potter kept casting him glances as they were working, the way their fingers brushed a little bit more than necessary, or the way Draco started when he felt Potter's hand briefly on his thigh as Noracam was speaking.

He was getting more comfortable with the whole 'gay' thing. He realised in the end, it didn't mean much. He was attracted to Potter, had a really good time with him - he had no idea before that Potter could be that funny and interesting - and that was it. No big deal in the end. Just two ordinary people getting cosier with each other.

What he had with Potter - Draco couldn't make himself call it a relationship yet - was nice. Really nice. Only their close friends knew about them - Draco loved the dark glances Weasley kept sending him. He and Potter managed to meet regularly for intense snogging and groping sessions that left Draco all hot and bothered every time, although it never went past what they had done in Draco's bedroom. Draco could feel Potter holding back, probably afraid to scare him away.

But after a few days and particularly intense wet dreams involving Potter, Draco realised he wanted to take things to another level.

He was ready for more.

* * *

As soon as Draco opened the door to the Cooking Classroom for his one-on-one session with Potter that Thursday night, it all fit into place.

Before his eyes were the two things he really wanted in his life right now: baking and Harry Potter.

Potter was working on their assignment, his hands at work, kneading the dough in such a mix of strength and softness that it sent shivers down Draco's spine at the sight. He was beautiful.

Potter lifted his eyes from the dough and took a long look at Draco. His face then broke into a smile and Draco's heart melted like the molten centre chocolate cakes they had baked the other day.

Without a word, Draco came closer and put his apron on. He then positioned himself right behind Potter and wrapped his body against his. He felt Potter gasp as he placed his hands on Potter's biceps and then slowly, very slowly, he ran his hands down Potter's arms, from his elbow to his bare forearms, down to his wrists and hands where Draco gently entwined their fingers together in the dough. He was pressed flush against him, rocking together in the embrace. Draco's face was buried deep in Potter's neck, placing gentle kisses on Potter's soft skin, and he was almost drunk from Potter's unique scent mixed with the smell of the buttery dough.

He started kneading the dough smoothly, his hands still on top of Potter's, their fingers still interlaced, following the rhythm of their bodies. Draco pressed his erection into Potter's arse, placing gentle kisses on his neck and on his jawline as Potter leaned his head back, his breathing ragged.

Their movements gradually became more urgent as their focus shifted from the dough to their bodies, and soon it was too much.

Too much tension, too much need, too much clothing.

Potter disentangled himself from Draco just in time to turn and look at him before Draco wrapped him in his arms again, his hands on the small of Harry's back.

"God, you're just-" Potter started, but Draco never knew what he was because Potter gently placed his hands around his neck and pressed their mouths together in a long, slow kiss that sent shivers through Draco's whole body. He moaned when Potter's tongue flicked at his lips, and they deepened the kiss. It was the most erotic sensation he had ever felt. God, he wanted this, he wanted this so badly his whole body was shaking from the anticipation.

This was happening. To him. This was real.

Potter broke the kiss and searched Draco's face, stroking his hair. "Do you want it?"

"Fuck yeah, Potter, what do you think?" Draco pressed his body forward, rocking his erection into Potter again to prove his point.

"Have you- have you done this before?" Potter asked, running his fingers gently over Draco's cheek.

"Of course I have! Plenty of times." He hadn't and Potter knew it, of course he knew it.

Potter tried to hide his smile. "Right. You've had a lot of sex but freaked out on a kiss?"

"I-"

"Shut up, you wanker," Potter said smiling openly this time and kissed him again, which was a really effective way of shutting him up, Draco thought.

Potter started fumbling with Draco's tie and Draco mimicked him, all the while still kissing, which wasn't the easiest thing to do. Their fingers kept bumping into the other's and they ended up removing their own ties, aprons and jumpers before resuming the kissing. Draco tried to remove Potter's ugly glasses but the boy stopped him.

"No," he said in a low, husky voice that went straight to Draco's groin. "I want to see you."

Draco let out a groan and then crushed his lips hard against Potter's again, kissing him like his life depended on it. Potter's hands were wild in his hair as Draco brought their bodies close together once more, moving against the boy like crazy. The feeling of Potter's arousal against his so enticing, he was afraid of losing it in his pants. He didn't think he could wait that much longer - his emotions were about to overwhelm him completely if he didn't calm down right away.

He broke the kiss and took a step back, panting hard. Fucking hell, Potter looked utterly debauched. His hair was a mess, even more so than usual, and he looked thoroughly flushed. Draco wanted nothing more than to ravish him right there and then. Which he was about to do. It was too wonderful to be true, he thought fleetingly.

"Strip," Draco ordered Potter, thinking it would allow him to calm down a little if he could keep his hands to himself for a while.

Potter narrowed his eyes in defiance. "You first," and the tone of command aroused Draco even more.

That was what he liked about Potter. The fact that he never gave up, the fact that he never let himself be intimidated by anything or anyone, especially not Draco. He was fearless, and strong and determined.

It turned Draco on to no end.

Draco narrowed his eyes and slowly took a step closer, then another one, until he was so close to Potter, they could kiss. Potter tried to- rather foolishly, he had to admit - but Draco's mouth curled up into a smirk before he violently took hold of Potter's shirt and ripped it off him, the sound of the buttons falling to the ground echoing in the otherwise silent classroom.

"I said 'strip,'" Draco said again before crushing his lips to Potter's forcefully, biting at his bottom lip, tearing out a low, angry moan from him as he kissed him into submission, plundering his tongue into Potter's mouth over and over again, as Potter was fighting back, unwilling to acknowledge his defeat. Draco shoved him into the workstation and the noise the metallic bowls made when they stumbled and fell to the floor was deafening.

Potter tried hard to get a grip on Draco's shirt, but Draco was blocking him.

"Fuck, Malfoy, you utter bastard!" he growled before pushing Draco back hard, making him stumble backwards. For a second he thought he was going to be able to regain his balance, but Potter lunged at him with incredible strength and they fell hard on the ground, Draco somehow managing not to break his neck.

Potter was now straddling him on the floor, keeping Draco's hands firmly pinned to the floor on either side of his head. Draco tried to disentangle himself but Potter had the upper hand. Draco then thrust his hips up, pressing his cock against Potter's arse, which elicited another beautiful moan from Potter's lips. Fucking hell, Draco had never, ever felt as alive as in this moment.

Potter narrowed his eyes menacingly again and murmured something Draco didn't hear, although that didn't matter much because the effect was immediate. All his clothes had suddenly vanished and he was starkers. If until then Draco had thought he could not possibly become more aroused than he was, he had been wrong. His now freed cock was leaking precome.

Potter was smirking above him, apparently very proud of himself.

"Fucker," Draco spat.

"Takes one to know one, Malfoy," Potter replied and finally released Draco's hands. He didn't have time to take advantage of that though, since Potter shamelessly took Draco's cock in his hand and started stroking it.

It was the first time someone else was touching him there, and he whimpered. That was- that was what fucking Heaven must be like, he thought before any coherent thought was removed from his distracted brain. Fuck, Potter was good at that, very good even. Draco thought he deserved the Order of Merlin just for his ability to stroke cock. The guy was a professional!

And then it hit Draco.

"You've done this before?" he asked and hated the slight tremble in his voice.

"That good, huh?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter," Draco gasped as Potter tugged at his cock a little bit too hard. "You, tosser!" And Draco tried -unsuccessfully - to throw him off. Never taunt someone who currently has your dick in his hand, Draco thought.

"Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot you've done this plenty of times already," Potter smirked.

Draco decided to ignore the taunt to get info. "So, have you?"

Potter stopped stroking him at once and looked deep in his eyes. "Yes. Once."

Draco felt instantly pissed off that Potter had again beat him at something and at the same time incredibly jealous. He wanted to know more. So someone had already put his hands on Potter? Was it a wizard, or worse, a Muggle?

Draco wrinkled his nose at the thought but soon forgot how to form coherent thoughts when he felt something he had never, ever felt before. The hot wetness that engulfed his cock all of a sudden made him jerk his hips hard, and he barely had time to process the fact that Potter was _sucking_ him when he came without warning. He came and came and came down Potter's throat. Potter eagerly swallowed all he could take, and there was loads of it.

Draco closed his eyes and let himself drift away in the aftermath of his orgasm.

He was deliriously happy. He could die now.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long. Potter cleared his throat in a way that disturbingly reminded him of Umbridge.

"Remember me?" Potter said, and Draco opened one eye and slightly lifted his head to see the boy still kneeling next to him, pointing at his - fucking hell - his impressive erect cock. Draco had no idea when the boy had undressed.

He let his head fall down to the floor and closed his eyes again. "Sod off, Potter, let me rest. I need my beauty sleep."

He flicked his eyes open when he felt Potter's breath hot against his ear. "You know very well this is not gonna happen, Malfoy."

Draco sighed, as if he was conceding something relatively painful. "Well, I know I'm quite talented, but even I can't possibly have a go at it right after orgasm. Give me ten minutes."

"Good. I'll prepare myself then!" If Draco hadn't come just a couple of minutes before, he swore he could have got it up again. For now, he was too far gone.

Less than ten minutes later, they were snogging like mad, Potter's naked butt resting on their flour-covered workstation - which Draco would have found disgusting were he not hard as hell once again - Draco standing between his legs.

Potter's hand was in his hair while the other was down his back and the boy brought them closer still when he wrapped his legs tightly around Draco's waist. Merlin, that was intense.

Draco groaned when their erections touched again, and he thrust against Potter, who moaned like a wanton whore. Fuck, Draco was once again completely lost in what they were doing, the feeling of Potter's hands all over his naked body, his scent, his taste, the rough handling, it was all too much. Draco couldn't believe he had come only a few minutes earlier.

He wanted Potter. Badly. Wanted to take him, to make him _his_.

"I want to fuck you," he said very distinctly in the boy's ear.

"Well, what are you waiting for then?"

"You- you sure you want it?" Draco couldn't help the sound of surprise in his voice.

"Of course I want it! I've been wanting it for weeks!"

"You- you have?" Draco had no idea. Potter, Harry bloody Potter, wanted him, and had for weeks? Him, the pathetic, coward Death Eater, the utter disappointment to the Malfoy name? Potter wanted _him_?

"Well, yeah. Why do you think I've been through hell with Ginny?"

Draco groaned. He had no desire to hear the ginger shrew's name as he was about to fuck Potter. "Right, let's just- do it then."

Potter smiled his most beautiful smile and, without warning, lay down on the table, legs wide open.

"Fuck, Potter, just- fuck," Draco couldn't take his eyes off the boy in front of him, open and apparently very well ready for him.

"That's kind of the idea, Draco."

Draco shut his mouth and moved between Potter's legs. He lifted them and rested them in the crook of his elbows and gasped when he saw Potter's tiny pink hole.

It was happening.

He was about to do it. He was about to lose his virginity to a boy, and not just any boy. A boy who had always managed to get to him like no other. A boy who had saved his life - twice. A boy he had hated more than he had hated anyone else in the whole world. A boy who had sent his own father to prison, leading Draco to make the worst decisions ever.

And yet, here they were.

Draco had never been harder in his life.

"Before tomorrow would be nice."

"Right, er- okay." Draco had little idea on how to do this. Well, he knew the basics but not much more. He carefully lined up his dick with Potter's entrance and pressed forward a little. Potter gasped and Draco froze in place.

"It's okay, Malfoy, you're not gonna break me, you know."

Draco pushed forward again. He felt resistance. Shit, how was he supposed to do this? He tried again, holding himself in place, but no, it wasn't working. He started panicking.

What if he couldn't do it? What if he hurt Potter? What if he was making a total fool of himself?

"Relax, Draco." Potter's voice soothed him somewhat. "Here, use this." And Potter handed him- what? _Butter?_

"This is- this is disgusting, Potter, this is-"

"A very good lubricant. Unless you have something else to suggest?"

Draco didn't, so he shut his mouth and dipped two fingers in the greasy stuff. And now, what?

"Touch me with it," Potter provided helpfully.

"Right."

Draco reached between Potter's legs, trying hard not to think about what he was doing, because it was- well. He pressed his fingers to Potter's entrance and started rubbing it.

"Fuck, Draco, this is so good," Potter encouraged him, and he pressed further, feeling Potter's muscles relax a bit but not fully entering him though; there was too much resistance for that.

"Here…" And before Draco could realise what was happening, he felt Potter's hand on his dick, slicked with butter.

"Oh, that's- oh!" he said, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, I know." Potter stroked him again a few times, and the sensations were so nice, Potter's hand felt like velvet around his cock. "Here, that should do." And Potter lay back down.

Draco positioned himself again and Potter was so relaxed and ready for him - Draco didn't even know how _that_ was possible considering what they were doing - that soon, the head of his cock passed the tight ring of muscle. He froze, wanting to make sure Potter was okay.

Potter took a deep breath and grabbed his cock, gently tugging at it. "Go on."

And Draco did. He pushed forward agonisingly slowly, until he was fully inside Potter. He closed his eyes and his head fell back. This- this was absolutely fucking amazing. This was nothing, nothing like what Draco had experienced before. The tightness of it, the warmth, the pressure of Potter's muscles around his dick - this was absolute bliss.

"You know about the whole back and forth thing, right?"

Draco opened his eyes. They roamed over Potter. Over his beautiful, open face, no longer hidden by his ugly glasses. Potter was trying very hard to hide his emotions behind the facade bravado but Draco could see them. He took his time to look down Potter's chest, the dark hairs scattered all over it, down his taut stomach to his leaking cock before he started to move, very slowly at first.

"Oh fuck, yeah!" Potter exhaled, and Draco felt a thrill run up his spine.

Potter closed his eyes and abandoned himself completely, an expression of pure bliss on his face as Draco thrust in and out of him. Draco had not been prepared for the amazing sensations making love to someone would bring. The emotions behind the act itself.

_This_ was what Harry Potter looked like during this intimate act of love. As Draco was moving faster, he felt a sudden rush of elation at the idea that he, Draco Malfoy, was one of the very few people who had seen Potter like this. It aroused him even more and he increased his pace again, his hands gently caressing Potter's thighs.

"You- you okay?" Draco couldn't help asking.

"Merlin, Draco, I- oh, yes! Oh! Right- right there!" And he arched his back and moved his hips, meeting Draco's thrusts in earnest.

Potter started to stroke his own cock faster, making all kinds of small noises in his throat, panting hard, and Draco knew he was probably very close. They were thrusting against each other now and Draco was getting overwhelmed with sensations, tremors shaking his entire body.

He pushed Potter's legs against his chest, bringing their bodies closer, and reached deeper, the new angle making Potter cry out beautifully. Draco's hands were now resting on either side of Potter's head, holding on to the table, and he was pounding into him like crazy.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck, Draco, fuck!"

Draco bent forward and placed a deep kiss on Potter's mouth and lost himself in the sensations setting his body alight.

The sound of flesh slapping against skin, the flour flying all around them, the smell of sex and Potter chanting his name over and over again gave the whole thing an air of utter debauchery that sent Draco over the edge. He felt his balls tighten, and come spurted out of his dick at the exact same time Potter himself came copiously over his fingers, milking Draco's cock in the most wonderful way with his clenching arse.

Then Draco crumbled over Potter, barely aware of the stickiness between them, utterly spent and sated.

* * *

The rest of the year passed awfully quickly, and the NEWTs were now just around the corner. Draco spent most of his evenings studying and he regretted not being able to spend more time in the cooking classroom. He had Harry though, and that was a nice compensation. The boys had grown closer over the last few weeks, and had even started talking about the future. This was a time to make important decisions, and it wasn't always the easiest thing to do.

Sometimes, though, all you need is a little help.

Draco was ecstatic as he leaped up the stairs leading to the West Tower, on this beautiful day of June.

He couldn't wait to tell Harry.

He tightened his grip on the letter in his hand. Fuck, he felt so relieved! He had been agonising about his future for weeks, and now there was finally, finally, light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn't believe it and smiled like a loon all the way to the Tower. People cast him amused glances, but he didn't give a shit.

He went through the common room at high speed, ignoring the other students as he passed them and headed up to his room. He stopped dead after a few steps, his hand still on the banister, as a very familiar, gorgeous smell caught his nostrils.

It could only be one thing: chocolate.

Was it-?

He covered the remaining distance fast, the smell more powerful with every step he took until he stopped in front of his room.

No doubt about it. It was coming from inside. A huge smile formed on his face.

He had not forgotten.

Draco pressed the handle and entered his room. His eyes had to adjust to the semi-darkness. Dozens of candles were giving the room an intimate, warm atmosphere. It was brilliant.

"Very romantic, Potter," he smirked, trying to make out Harry's figure in the dark.

A dozen more candles lit at the same time on what Draco supposed was his desk.

He smiled again.

Right behind the desk stood Harry wearing his white apron, stirring up very slowly what Draco presumed was melted chocolate. There was no source of heat so Draco supposed Harry had used different spells to keep the chocolate warm to prevent it from getting hard.

Talking about getting hard, Draco came closer and was finally able to see Harry's face, looking breathtakingly beautiful in the candlelight. He felt a shiver running down his spine at the sight.

Fuck. This year had ended up being bloody brilliant, against all odds.

When he was finally standing across the desk from Potter, he looked deep in his eyes.

"Let me taste it."

Without a word, Potter dipped his index finger into the melted chocolate and slowly, agonisingly slowly, brought it to Draco. He took Harry's finger inside his mouth, licking it greedily before sucking it repeatedly back and forth, swirling his tongue around it slowly. Harry closed his eyes and let out a soft moan that went straight to Draco's groin.

"Um, not too sweet, rather strong taste… that must be at least a seventy-two percent cocoa."

"Show off!" Harry teased before removing his finger from Draco's mouth and walking around the desk, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and kissing him hard on the mouth. "But I like that," he murmured against his lips.

Draco groaned and placed his hands on Potter's hips, bringing him closer, before cupping Potter's arse.

Potter's _naked_ arse.

"Fuck, Potter!" Draco blurted.

"I'm certainly counting on it," Harry smiled and kissed him again, rolling his hips against Draco, their tongues touching in earnest in a heated kiss. Potter drew away long enough to say in a low voice. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Draco."

Draco's whimper died in his throat when Potter's mouth was on his again, and he hastily undid Harry's apron, suddenly feeling annoyed by all the layers of clothes between them.

"God, you're so-" Draco kissed him again. "… hot, I-" and again. "Merlin, HARRY!" Draco exclaimed as all his clothes suddenly vanished and he was as naked as the day he was born.

Bloody hell! How did Harry constantly manage to set Draco on edge every single time?

Harry pushed him backwards towards the bed, not relenting for one second as they kissed more frantically now, wonderful little familiar sounds coming from Harry's mouth, the heat of his skin feeling amazing against his own.

Draco felt the back of his legs hit the bed. Harry placed both his hands on Draco's arms and shoved him in a gentle, although firm manner on to the bed.

"On your stomach," Harry ordered, and Draco felt his cock twitch at the tone of command. Sex with Harry felt so much better than any of the fantasies Draco had had up till then!

Draco narrowed his eyes, ready to protest just for the sake of it, but seeing the lust in Potter's eyes made him comply without a word. He slowly, as seductively as possible, turned over and positioned himself on his stomach, displaying his arse without shame to Potter who gasped at the sight.

"Calm down, Potter, it's nothing you haven't seen before." He was thrilled to provoke this kind of reaction in Harry and felt his heart beat faster despite the facade.

"Yeah, not really worth it, I should go now," Potter teased and Draco raised himself up on his elbows.

"Don't you dare, you fucker."

Potter beamed at him, and he was too fucking beautiful for words. After all those months, Draco still marvelled at the fact that he had been lucky enough to catch Potter. He still wasn't sure he totally deserved what was happening to him and sometimes expected to wake up realising it had all been a dream.

But the dream felt bloody real as Potter gently positioned himself behind Draco, lying on top of him and trailing kisses from the back of his neck all the way down to the small of his back. Feeling Potter's arousal against his leg, combined with the soft, gentle kisses made Draco light-headed and he relaxed into the moment, resting his head in his arms before closing his eyes.

He opened them again when he felt Potter's knee sneaking between his legs and he parted them.

"_Accio _chocolate!"

Draco gasped as the saucepan containing the melted cocoa flew across the room and Harry caught it.

"Oh, Potter, you wonderful, kinky bastard!" His cock was throbbing, trapped as it was by the mattress.

Potter chuckled and Draco started when he felt the warm liquid dripping between his shoulder blades and then running all the way down to the curve of his arse. He had goosebumps all over his body when he felt even more melted chocolate on his arse cheeks.

Potter discarded the pan under Draco's bed and resumed his spot between Draco's legs.

"Happy birthday, Draco," he murmured, and Draco felt Potter's tongue at the small of his back as he licked his way up to Draco's shoulder blades. Fucking hell, Potter's tongue felt wicked and soft and oh so arousing, providing Draco with loads of mental pictures he welcomed wantonly.

Draco groaned when he felt Potter's warm breath hover over his arse and soon his tongue was back there and Draco didn't know if he would be able to stop himself from coming before anything had even happened. Potter was licking his arse cheeks like they were the most refined dessert, and he certainly took his time, the bloody git.

"Potter," Draco growled. Fuck, he was on edge.

"Yes, Malfoy?" and Draco's dick twitched violently at Potter's use of his last name.

His retort died in his throat when the most incredible sensation came from his arsehole. Potter had pressed his tongue at the base of his balls and was slowly, achingly slowly licking a long stripe along Draco's cleft, making him whimper pathetically again as he fisted the sheets to avoid losing it right away and embarrassing himself.

Potter lifted his head and the cold air that swept over his hole made Draco wince.

"You like that?" Potter teased.

"Wh- What?" Draco was proud he had managed to say a coherent word.

"I said, do you like that?"

"I- I-"

"As articulate as ever, Malfoy."

"Hey! That's my l- Oh!" Draco managed one last time before the amazing sensation returned to his backside. Potter started lapping at his hole repeatedly and it was so- fuck, so, so incredibly fucking good that- "Jesus Christ, Potter, just-"

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined how utterly mind-blowing Potter kissing his arse would be.

Potter redoubled his efforts, and Draco could no longer utter words, only weird sounds coming from his throat.

And then Draco's world stopped turning. Potter entered him and the sensation of his hard, wet tongue moving fast in and out of him set him on the edge. He didn't know anything anymore, couldn't remember his own name nor anything else but he couldn't care less. He was a shivering mess, at Potter's total mercy.

Just as he was about to lose it completely, Potter withdrew and slapped him gently on his arse cheek.

"Don't you dare come, I'm not done with you yet," Potter said in a husky voice and that brought Draco back to reality. He opened his eyes only to realise he had shed a couple of tears in the process and hastily wiped them before Potter could see them. He then lifted his head and looked at Potter's fit body, the sharp angles of his hips, his stunning chest, his dark hairs scattered all over it and he wondered how on earth he had never realised before what the male body did to him.

"So, what do you think?"

Draco had regained composure by then and narrowed his eyes. "Well, I'm a bit disappointed to be honest."

"Disappointed?" A flicker of uncertainty passed fleetingly through Potter's eyes before they got defiant again. "And how is that?"

"Well, it is _my_ birthday, and up till now, I rather think _you_ are the one having all the fun here."

Potter burst out laughing. "Oh yeah? You certainly sounded like you were having a good time!"

"I was entertaining you, that's all," Draco said with a dismissing gesture. "But like I said, it is _my_ birthday, and I'm not the one eating the chocolate. How disappointing!"

Potter's face broke into a wide wicked smile. "Oh, but that can certainly be helped!" And with that, he grabbed the pan on the floor and dipped two fingers deep in the chocolate. He brought them to Draco's face and Draco opened his mouth a little bit too eagerly but Potter smirked and took them away before he could touch them.

Draco groaned in frustration. "Bastard," he spat, genuinely annoyed.

But then Potter came closer and brought his fingers to his dick and holy shit, started spreading the chocolate on his very hard cock and Draco's mouth watered at the thought of what was awaiting him.

Oh, better. Much, much better.

Potter repeated the motion and Draco almost drooled all over his sheets, which would not be a terribly dignified thing to do, even in front of the Slob-in-Chief Potter.

Said slob put the pan back on the floor and finally, finally brought his dick to Draco's face. It was as if nothing else existed at that moment; the castle could burst into flames, Draco wouldn't avert his eyes from Potter's cock. He was hypnotised by it.

Potter held his dick in place between his thumb and index finger at the base, and any thought of getting back at him by making him ask for it crumbled as Draco's nostrils caught the wonderful smell of chocolate mixed with Potter's heady scent.

In an ideal world, Draco would have been patient and subtle, and would have licked Potter's shaft delicately from the base to the head but they were not in an ideal world so he lunged at Potter's cock like a starving man and took it whole in his mouth in one go. They both moaned at the attack and Draco was once again in Heaven.

Bloody sodding Salazar! He went hard on Potter's dick, swirling his tongue all around it to get every single drop of chocolate, unable to refrain himself as every flavour mixed beautifully with the other and ran down Draco's throat. Potter was calling his name in a broken voice and soon, the taste of chocolate faded to leave only Pure Essence of Potter, and that was even better. Draco had never realised before there could be anything better than chocolate.

How utterly wrong he had been.

But then all his previous beliefs had crumbled one after the other, starting with discrimination based on blood purity, and Dark Gits, and Potter and being straight. And yes, it was kind of weird to have these thoughts while sucking the Scarhead like crazy, but it all came to that in the end. Draco had been wrong on all of these things, not that he would admit it out loud, but he had, fuck he had, and how was he going to be able to live now that everything he had always believed in was gone?

Potter's tight grip in his hair brought him back to the present as he left Potter's cock for a moment, nudging at his balls instead, trying to capture Harry's potent scent even more, to lose himself in it completely, because that was where he belonged. He belonged with Potter, probably always had, and yes, he wasn't afraid to say it now, because if being gay meant having Potter, all of him, all of the time, well, fucking hell, then he was very happy to be gay, queer, bent, or whatever label people would throw at him. He would take it all and not give a shit about it because it was finally time he got to be his own man, high time he made his own decisions and lived for himself.

"Draco!" and God he would give away all the Malfoy fortune to be able to hear his name called like that again.

Potter gently pushed him away and leaned forward, stroking his dick slowly as he brought his lips to Draco's in a heated kiss before settling on the bed, kneeling between Draco's legs and attacking his hole again with his tongue with renewed vigour. Potter's moves were more frantic now, he couldn't hide his impatience anymore as he lined up his dick to Draco's entrance, teasing his hole once more, and Draco braced himself on his elbows and welcomed the slight sting of Potter's dick slowly, incredibly slowly breaching him.

To be filled like that, to be loved like that, to feel complete like that he would give anything.

And no, being at this end of a fuck wasn't making him weak like he had heard so many people say, including his own sodding father, no, it wasn't making him less of a man, because it definitely took balls to abandon yourself like that to somebody else. And he almost pitied those ignorants, who had no idea what they were missing with their twisted conceptions of strength and dominance and manhood.

"Fuck, Draco, you feel so, so good," Potter muttered, pressing gentle, soothing kisses to the nape of his neck, now balls-deep inside him before moving in and out of him slowly, eager to make the moment last, and Draco pushed against him with a moan, needing more, demanding more, and oh! Right there! Yeah, fucking right there, and Draco was becoming a shivering mess.

Harry moved one of Draco's leg slightly up and went deeper still. He rested his hands on either side of Draco and started pumping in and out of him faster and faster, and God! How was he going to last with the rhythm Harry had set? They had been at it for too long, playing and teasing and _bonding_, and he knew he wouldn't last long at that point anymore. Bloody hell, what they were doing surpassed all the cookies in the world, all the cakes, and pies, and hell, it even surpassed chocolate!

"Pot- oh, fucking hell, _Harry_, I- I'm, oh God, yeah, bloody hell, yes!" and it wasn't only Draco's dick that was celebrating this intense moment, it was his whole body, from hair to toe that was vibrating in harmony with Harry's.

"Yeah, come for me, Draco."

The friction of the sheets on his dick echoed with the sensations in his backside and then Harry placed a hand on his hip, holding him tight, his touch so gentle and caring, before slowly bringing his hand down on Draco's cock.

That did it for Draco and he came with a cry that probably woke the Giant Squid in the lake. Harry followed suit and pulsed inside him, the wonderful, wonderful sounds coming from him too good to be true.

And then it was over.

Harry slowly pulled out and pressed a gentle soft kiss on Draco's backside. Draco turned around, sated and content and wrapped Harry in his arms before stroking his hair and placing soft kisses on his forehead.

"Happy birthday, Draco," Harry said, already half-asleep.

"Love you too," Draco muttered against Harry's forehead before sleep claimed him as well.

* * *

_Epilogue_

_Saturday, June, 5th, 2004_

"I'm done here," Draco said after dipping the last éclair in the warm chocolate glaze and putting it on the sheet pan with the others, before setting them all to chill. Good.

Draco quickly washed his hands and wiped them on a tea towel while casting a quick glance at the clock on the wall - one of many concessions to Muggle technology he had made when he first arrived here. He usually never left his lab before at least eight every night, but today was special, and Harry was waiting for him.

"Andy, the chocolate éclairs will be ready in an hour. Don't forget to use the white cardboard boxes this time."

"Sure, Mr Malfoy," the short, brown-haired twenty-year-old apprentice replied before checking the oven for Draco's latest creation: strawberry-poppy macarons.

"Heather, you're going to be all right with these cupcakes?"

"Of course, Mr Malfoy, we have everything under control," the petite blonde smiled, putting the last touch of icing on them.

"Good. I'm off now, I'm already late. See you tomorrow, then."

"Have a good night!"

Draco opened the door leading to the small hallway situated between the boutique and the lab they used as a changing room. He removed his white Chef jacket and briefly ran his fingers over his name sewn in golden letters, before hanging it in his locker.

If someone had told him right after the war that he would one day become a Pâtissier and have his own boutique on Diagon Alley, that he would spend his days baking cupcakes, macarons, lemon pies and other pastries, experimenting and creating new flavours all the time, and that he would revel in it, he wouldn't have believed them. Of course he wouldn't.

But then, against all odds, the Art of Cooking the Muggle Way class had changed his whole life and turned him into a different man. His head was spinning at the thought of all the amazing things it had brought him and all that was yet to come.

Without it, Draco would have never discovered the pure joy baking gave him every single day.

Without it, Draco would have never felt brave enough to confront his father and lead the life he really wanted to lead.

Without it, he and Harry would have gone their separate ways. Draco would have married a pureblood witch and Harry, well, Harry would probably be with another man. Draco winced at the thought.

When at the end of their eighth year, five years ago exactly today - Draco would never forget - Noracam had told him she had found an apprenticeship for him with a renowned Pâtissier, Draco had been both thrilled and confused. The decision had been hard to make; he wanted this more than anything else, but his father… his father did not take it well. And that was an understatement.

It had taken all of his mother's persuasion for his father to finally give in. It had liberated Draco. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders and from then on, nothing had ever been able to stop him.

The first three years after Hogwarts had been difficult, to say the least. He and Harry worked like crazy and didn't see much of each other. Harry was training to become an Auror then, and Draco was away a lot - particularly in Paris, where he even got to meet Monsieur Pierre Hermé himself - to learn, learn, learn everything he could about the job. He worked constantly, learning the basics and barely sleeping, reading every single book he could find and missing Harry so much it hurt. But in the end, they had made it, and here they were now.

It had been so worth it.

They had purchased this little boutique on Diagon Alley as soon as Draco's apprenticeship was over, a couple of years ago. Draco was very proud of his Pâtisserie, which was unique in the wizarding world. He had spent nights on end with his mother designing the warm and gourmet atmosphere he wanted.

He opened the door leading to the small boutique.

It was nothing grand - white vintage furniture against deep purple walls and white frames holding pictures of all kind of delicacies - but it was everything Draco ever wanted.

The boutique was crowded on this Saturday evening, as always. There were people waiting in line, while others were enjoying Draco's pastries on small round tables. The front window displayed a sample of Draco's creations, alluring the passers-by in. It generally worked pretty well, even if Draco didn't really need the publicity anymore. His reputation was now firmly established.

Behind the counter, in front of the huge shelves where large glass jars were holding biscuits, madeleines and financiers of all sorts, stood Victoria, all smiles as always, patiently answering the same questions over and over again - 'Yes, this is a strawberry cheesecake, serves eight, one of my favourites, really, especially with the macarons on top".

Draco didn't know how she did it, really. He could never be as patient and nice to people all day long. He much preferred the peace and quiet of his lab, where he could actually hear himself think, rather than the constant buzzing of the boutique. But Victoria was absolutely perfect. She was the loveliest girl Draco had ever met, always cheerful and smiling, charming the rudest customers and winning them over every time. Draco knew what he owed her. She was very precious to him.

"I'm off now, Vicky," he said in a low voice in between two customers.

"Great, have fun, Mr Malfoy!" she said with a bright smile. "And please tell Harry I said hi!"

"I will," he said before adding under his breath, "If he doesn't kill me for being late."

Draco quickly rearranged the Mille-feuilles and Religieuses au café in the display window, and off he was.

It was a beautiful warm evening and Diagon was crowded. Draco quickly walked to the end of the Alley and stepped into the Muggle world. The restaurant wasn't very far. It was a nice little Italian restaurant where Draco and Harry often went on the weekend with their friends - Granger and Weasley as well as Pansy and Blaise, who, to Draco's greatest surprise, were still together.

Draco pushed open the tiny front door painted in glossy red, and the bell tinkled. The place was rather busy - it was a Saturday night, after all - but very welcoming as usual with its small tables with candles glowing over white tablecloths and beautiful black and white pictures of Tuscan landscapes on the walls. Draco spotted Harry, who gave him a smile he would never get tired of.

The waiter took his coat and hung it on the rack by the door and Draco headed to the table, as Harry stood to greet him. He was dressed for the occasion and had abandoned his usual trainers and jeans to wear light grey trousers (Draco's favourites; they particularly complimented Harry's spectacular round arse) and a dark-green silk shirt. Draco placed a soft kiss on Harry's lips before taking a seat.

"Sorry I'm late," he started before Harry could say anything because he knew Harry didn't like it when Draco spent too much time in his lab, especially on special occasions.

"That's all right, Draco, you're here now," Harry smiled nervously, fiddling with his hands under the table.

It was good it was his birthday because Draco knew he would never have got off that easily had that not been the case.

"Can I get you a drink?" the waiter asked them.

"Yes, we'll have two glasses of Prosecco, please."

"Very well, sirs."

"So, how was your day?" Draco asked casually, dipping a grissini breadstick into the rich gorgonzola sauce before devouring it. Gorgeous as always.

"Oh, the usual," Harry answered, avoiding Draco's eyes, which made Draco frown slightly. Harry went on and Draco soon forgot about it. "Went off to search for bad guy, found bad guy, interrogated bad guy with Blaise, which was fun as you can imagine." Oh yes, Draco could. He had been surprised when Blaise had joined Harry in the Aurors after Hogwarts, but now he couldn't imagine him doing anything else. "Had lunch with Ron and Hermione at the pub since you weren't available." Harry finally lifted his eyes and Draco smiled apologetically. "Wrote a report while Blaise was playing exploding snaps with the guys from Muggle Artifacts, and then went home and got ready. Same old same, really. You?"

"Well, Mrs Dean came back to change the order for tomorrow _again_, but that's no surprise. I just hope this time we're all set because there's nothing much I'll be able to do tomorrow morning if she changes her mind between now and-"

"Will you marry me?" Harry blurted and Draco's mouth hung open in the most undignified way possible.

"Because I want to marry you," Harry went on, _blushing_, something that didn't happen often. "Badly. I want to be with you every single day, Draco. I never want anybody else in my life, ever. Fuck, I love you."

Draco felt his cheeks heat up as thousands of thoughts crossed his mind and he found it impossible to speak. Harry interpreted his silence the wrong way and started babbling, a sure sign that he was now more than nervous.

"Oh God. You don't wanna marry me, do you?" Harry spoke rapidly, running his hand through his hair nervously, looking at the tablecloth as if it held all the answers. "Shit, that's- that's okay, Draco, we just- we don't need to- I mean, yeah, I would like to marry you, to be your, well, your husband, God, very much so, I mean, I'd _really_ love that, but then, if you don't, well, we could just- I mean, God, you have no intention of leaving me, right? Oh Merlin, that's it? You don't want to marry me because you've met someone else and you're very happy with him and-"

Harry's lips kept moving but no sound was coming out of his mouth anymore. Living with Harry, Draco had had the chance to learn many wandless spells. He was particularly happy he had mastered the Silencio right now.

Harry's eyes opened wide when he realised what Draco had done.

"Sorry, you were never going to shut up," Draco smiled apologetically. "And the answer is yes, you fucker, of course, it's a yes!"

Harry's face broke into a huge smile as he opened his mouth again, still without any sound coming out.

"Is everything okay with your partner?" asked the waiter looking rather puzzled as he poured the Prosecco into the flutes.

"Yeah, he's just overwhelmed with joy, right now. Happens all the time. Frankly, who could blame him?" Draco gave him his best flirtatious smile, knowing it would piss Harry off tremendously.

"Oh," the waiter said scratching his head before hastily walking away, frowning and muttering something Draco didn't get.

"So, where were we?" Draco asked innocently. "Oh yes." He took the flute in his hand and held it up. "_Finite,_" he murmured, beaming at Harry who looked more than annoyed now.

"Bastard!" he spat, grabbing his flute as well.

"That's not a very nice thing to say to your future husband," Draco teased.

Harry's smile came back to his face immediately. "True." He raised an eyebrow. "Draco, darling, you're a bastard."

"Takes one to know one, Potter."

They smiled at each other and then Harry reached for his hand across the table and entwined their fingers. It had taken Draco quite a while not to feel self-conscious when displaying affection in public, but now, he just couldn't care less what people thought of them. They were a couple, they were in love, and they'd be damned if they couldn't express it like anyone else.

They raised their glasses. "Here's to you," Harry said. "Happy birthday, Draco."

They downed the Prosecco faster than was reasonable.

"Ready to order, gentlemen?"

"Sure, what are you having, Harry?"

Harry turned to the waiter. "I'll have the ossobuco, please."

"Very good choice. What about you, sir?"

"Stuffed peppers."

The waiter scribbled the order on his notepad and went away.

"You do love stuffing," Harry chuckled.

"Indeed," Draco replied suggestively. "I'll show you tonight just how much I love it."

"I just can't wait," Harry said huskily and Draco smiled.

"Me neither."

~Fin~


End file.
